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

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  “We aren't saying-”

  Mrs. Majesty slammed her fist onto the table.

  “Your greed isn't my problem. Whatever fuels you, whatever desire pushes you toward your goals, I approve of them, as long as they are the same goals as my own. So, while I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, and I encourage you to bring any further issues to my attention, I would like to reiterate: you are to never, ever give me the solution to the problem unless I ask for it. I created this company, I run this company. I am the alpha and the omega of this company.”

  Esmeralda stood up, her six-foot-five frame towering over the table. “And if you ever even whisper about the possible dissolution of the Umbra sector, you will know my wrath. Are we clear?”

  The board members looked to each other for strength, or unity, but in the end they all looked at the floor and nodded their heads.

  “Good,” she said, then tossed the pad of paper across the table. “Now go put that into development.”

  One of the board members grabbed the pad of paper and looked at the drawing, turning the schematic in different directions, trying to figure out what they were looking at. The board members next to her leaned in to peer over her shoulder, looking just as confused.

  Finally, one of them adjusted the glasses hanging on the tip of his nose and asked, “What is this?”

  “I just invented a holographic display for our mobile phone design. I want it on the next model and in stores right after the new year.”

  As she walked out of the board room and into the elevator, the young woman she threatened earlier yelled out, “Shouldn't we get it into stores for the gift giving season? People are buying phones like crazy right now.”

  “Let them buy the old phones. When we release the new model, they'll have to buy another one.” Just as the doors began to slide shut, Esmeralda grinned and said, “They are sheep. Be the shepherd.”

  9

  AZAKOR

  From the balcony of one of the Grand Citadel's many towers, he scanned the clouds until he spotted the flashing illumination of the incoming aircraft. The spinning saucer was covered in blinking beams of light, spraying out in every direction. The ship announced its arrival with as much fanfare as it could muster. Long antennae covered the silver craft, jutting out in as many directions as the beams of light, each one reminding Azakor of a horn atop the head of a beast.

  He was excited to see his half-sister, Sasha. He hadn't seen her in almost a year, so there was a certain eagerness to find out how her new life among the Oshiros was going, but the fact that the Oshiros themselves would be accompanying her filled him with anxiety. Usually he didn't need to worry about playing the diplomat with them. His grandfather always took on the role of host, spending most of the time reminiscing with the patriarch of the family, Dominus Takahiro. The two of them fought alongside each other many times in the foolish days of costumed heroes and villains, and united to defend the world against King Krieg and the German army in the Second World War. They were also the first domain to sign the peace treaty, ending the Super Power War after Azakor's father's death. The Oshiros supplied the Zharkovian Empire with technology that only they could create with their super-powered intelligence, and even built the citadel itself for the Zharkovs to rule from. Azakor knew he had to show them respect, he knew how much his family owed to them, and he knew how important the relationship was with the death of his grandfather hanging over the empire.

  “It will be alright,” his wife Simone said, her gold skin reflecting the moonlight, making her appear as if she grew from the ornate elegance of the palace itself. Her golden flesh was her only super power, much to the chagrin of his grandfather, but she offered Azakor so much more than just another SPMD to add to their bloodline. Simone was a true partner, and offered him both the strength and comfort that he denied himself out of pride. She was always the voice of reason, and often much more intelligent than he was, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Even in the face of Imperator Konstantin's passing, she still believed in Azakor's ability to hold the empire together. She had an unfaltering faith in him.

  As the Oshiro's aircraft landed, Azakor scooped her up in his arms and lifted off from the ground, descending from the tower and joining the rest of his family in the greeting room. The room itself was covered in the same garish golden designs as the rest of the citadel, twisting into the ceiling like epic pillars of metal fire. Every wall was draped with the midnight black Zharkovian banner, each one trimmed with gold braids along the edges. The symbol of their empire was emblazoned upon the middle of each banner: the Earth embraced by the letter Z, encircled by laurels and crossed by two swords. The words Timete et amate imperium hung across the bottom.

  “Fear and love the empire.”

  His family all stood in a line, waiting for the massive hangar doors to open so that they could properly greet the members of the Oshiro dynasty. Even the children were poised and stoic.

  At the head of the line, his mother, Magda, stood next to his uncle, Padamir. Padamir's gaze wandered around the room like the wistful emptiness that wandered around his mind. His youthfulness made him look more like a son to Magda than a husband. His body was thin and lithe, yet he retained the same super strength and invincibility that Imperator Konstantin and Konstantin's late wife had passed down to him.

  Standing next to his mother and uncle was his younger brother, Maksim, Guardian of the West. Maksim nodded his square head toward Azakor and saluted him by tapping his fist on the left side of his chest twice. Maksim was simple. He was quiet. He wasn't that smart, but he was loyal. Azakor trusted him more than anyone in the family, because Maksim never yearned for more. He was always content, no matter the situation. He dealt with what was in front of him, and moved forward. There was no contemplation or second-guessing, no anxiety over whether he made the right decision, or any decision. He just acted.

  Azakor gripped Maksim's shoulder as he passed him and took his place with Simone. Their three golden-skinned children were lined up in a perfect row next to his wife, just as they were taught to from the earliest age.

  His oldest daughter, Zana, was the Guardian of the East. She was proudly wearing her armor and cape, with her thumbs tucked into her belt. Sometimes it seemed she never took off her Guardian uniform. Her jet black hair made her stand out from the rest of his children, who were blessed with his wife's blond hair. She also stood the tallest among them. He never saw his daughter laugh, too overwhelmed with the seriousness of her station. She always tried so hard to impress him, to make him proud of her Guardianship, but the lingering knowledge of what the future held for her always got in the way. She was a woman, and to the empire that meant she was a vessel for a child. Soon enough they would marry her off to some family as a peace treaty or trade agreement. She would give birth and strengthen a domain. She was a victim of the super power arms race, and so instead of having pride, he could only pity her.

  His first born son, Niko, stood next to Zana. Besides his mother's blond hair and golden skin, he was the spitting image of Azakor. Azakor had no doubt that when the time came to place the imperator's crown upon his son's head, it would be a historic age for the empire.

  His youngest son, Yuri, stood at the end of the line. Yuri was small for his age, but he seemed to express a power larger than his body. His fists were always clenched tight, the muscles in his arms and legs always rigid, as if he were readying himself for battle every second of every day.

  The large bell that hung over the top of the hangar doors rang, announcing the unlocking of the entrance. The doors split down the middle, scraping across the floor, giving the Oshiros the dramatic entrance Azakor knew they would appreciate.

  Dominus Takahiro and his wife Akiko appeared in the center of the doorway with their grandson, Jiro, and Azakor's half-sister, Sasha, off to the side. They entered with a practiced gait.

  Dominus Takahiro was well over a hundred years old, his frail, skeletal body kept alive by the monstrosity of a machine he des
igned himself using his super intelligence. He laid in the throne-like contraption more than sat, surrounded by jugs of different liquids that bubbled and churned through tubes connected to his various organs. The six legs of the machine were like that of a spider, clicking against the ground as they pushed his body forward. He controlled the entire thing through twisted wires connected to his brain. His body was stagnant, only his eyes moving around inside his skull.

  Akiko walked next to the machine, her face covered with a black veil. Every once in a while she reached up to wipe the drool from Dominus Takahiro's lips with the hem of her kimono. She was much younger than Dominus Takahiro, but her age still showed in her tiny frame. She had no super power, and refused the help of any machinery to slow her aging, much to the irritation of her husband.

  As the large machine that contained Dominus Takahiro approached Padamir and Magda, a string of harsh and mechanical Neo-Nipponese words poured from the speaker built into the belly of the machine. Akiko bowed in apology and reached toward a control panel on the side of the apparatus. She flipped a single switch and turned a large knob, clicking it four positions to the right.

  “Hello?” the more commonly used imperial language came from the same speaker, still harsh and mechanical. “Ah, that's better for you, I suppose? You can run a whole damn empire, but you can't be bothered to learn our language. I suppose I shouldn't expect others to keep our traditions alive.”

  Magda cleared her throat, keeping her stoic smile on her face. “It's such a pleasure to see you again, Dominus Takahiro, albeit under unfortunate circumstances.”

  “Unfortunate? Is that what you've decided to call the death of my friend? The death of your imperator?”

  Magda smiled in reply and said,“ You of course remember my husband, Padamir.”

  The machine hummed loudly as it turned toward Padamir. “Ah yes. Husband number two, correct? Or is this number three?”

  Magda's lips hardened.

  “Oh don't get so upset. You can't expect an old man to keep track of all you Zharkovs. You multiply like... well, numbers, I suppose.”

  Padamir bowed to Dominus Takahiro, awkwardly. Azakor's body tensed. Padamir shouldn't have bowed that low. There was an appropriate level to bow that showed respect, yet still held onto the family's superiority. Padamir fell far below that point.

  “This is the man you've chosen to take Konstantin's place, eh?”

  “No one could take Konstantin's place, m'dom.”

  “We'll see.”

  “Were the Prince and Princess unable to join us?” Magda asked, looking toward the open hangar bay and the large saucer-shaped vehicle the family arrived in.

  “Someone has to run our domain while I am away. I was not blessed with a brood of offspring in which to hand off my duties.”

  Magda nodded, dutifully accepting his remark before stepping to the side so that she could see around the large life-support system and smile at her teenage daughter.

  “Sasha, my dear. It's so good to see you. How are you? How has Neo-Nippon been treating you?”

  An elaborate headdress held up Sasha's muddy brown hair, with crystals and jewels dangling from every edge, and large swaths of cloth wrapped around her teenage body to create a kimono that could fit her pregnant belly.

  “I'm fine, mother. They've treated me well.”

  “Of course we have,” Dominus Takahiro shouted through the speaker. “And soon she will thank us with a child. Finally.”

  Azakor glanced over at Sasha's husband, Jiro. The young man was tapping away on the screen of some device, completely absorbed in his activity and unresponsive to anything happening in the room. He was tall, skinny, and horrific to look at thanks to his translucent skin. Every flexing muscle, pumping organ, and vein full of blood was visible. His face appeared like a bloody skull with eyeballs rolling around in the sockets. It was all a disgusting byproduct of the super power passed down from his mother. They both possessed the ability to pass through solid matter as if they were intangible. Azakor couldn't help feeling a bit under-powered when he considered the collection of super powers that Sasha's child would gain. Her own super strength and invincibility gained from Padamir, mixed with the flight she gained from Magda, now mixed with the super intelligence and phasing abilities gained from the Oshiro bloodline? Their child would rival his own children, and that didn't sit well with him.

  “And where is Konstantin? I would like to see the body of my friend as soon as possible.” Dominus Takahiro's machine spun around to step past the imperial family, foregoing the rest of the pleasantries. “You all stand around exchanging smiles, making me appear as a fool, speaking to you about such nonsense when the empire is in peril.”

  Azakor stepped in front of Dominus Takahiro, blocking his withdrawal from the room. “M'dom, please. I mean you no disrespect, but I can assure you that the Zharkov family has everything under control. The empire is strong.”

  The voice box on Dominus Takahiro's machine screeched before he shouted, “Boy, I don't care what you do or do not mean. If you don't move out of my way, I will take your actions as more than just disrespect.”

  Azakor glanced at his mother, who paused, then nodded her head. Azakor stepped to the side and held out his hand.

  “Of course. My apologies, m'dom.”

  Dominus Takahiro stared at Azakor for a moment before his machine lurched and wobbled out of the room, Akiko following close behind. Jiro followed, still tapping away at the screen of his device. When they reached the doorway, he never looked up, walking straight into the wall. His body passed through it as if he were a ghost. Only Sasha remained with her family.

  Simone grabbed onto Azakor's sleeve and whispered, “You could have handled that with a bit more elegance, don't you think?”

  Azakor glanced at his mother and whispered back to his wife, “I'm not sure there's a right way to interact with that man. Konstantin's relationship with him tempered his arrogance. I see no respect in Takahiro's eyes now that his old war buddy is dead.”

  “Is Dominus Takahiro right to worry, mother?” Niko asked, looking up at Simone with worried eyes. “Is the empire in trouble?”

  Yuri hid behind his older sister, peeking around her as he waited for a response. Zana hugged him close and answered for her mother.

  “Of course not, Niko.”

  Azakor stepped forward. “We will crown a new imperator. The empire will move forward. That is all. We were prepared for this. Your great-grandfather was very old. In fact, this may be a good thing.”

  Simone shot him a look of disgrace.

  Azakor held up his hand and said, “All I mean is your great-grandfather was most likely in pain, pain he was too prideful to tell us about. You shouldn't mourn the loss of your grandfather, you should be content with the loss of his pain.”

  “Great-grandfather was in pain? I thought we couldn't be hurt? I thought we were invincible?” Yuri whimpered

  “Well,” Azakor said without thinking, “that doesn't mean we can't be killed, son.”

  Tears fell from his golden eyelids as Yuri shot out of the room.

  “Seriously, father?” Zana said, her scowl growing deeper before she flew out of the room after Yuri.

  Niko turned back toward his father and smiled. “Don't mind her, father, she's only mad because she just got Yuri to stop crying this morning. He's being a baby about all of this. But don't worry. I will do whatever you ask of me. Whatever you need.”

  Azakor placed his hand on Niko's shoulder and said, “Thank you, son.”

  Niko nodded proudly and then followed after his siblings.

  Simone grabbed onto Azakor's arm, placed a small kiss upon his cheek, and said, “You deal with this. I will see if I can calm Zana and Yuri.”

  Azakor bowed his head. “Thank you, my love.”

  He turned toward his family, who were all mumbling quietly among themselves. As he approached, Magda seemed relieved by his presence.

  “Azakor. We were just discussing our plan
s for Padamir's coronation.”

  Azakor steeled himself for what he was about to say. “I look forward to it.”

  Padamir puffed out his thin chest and smiled. “Thank you, son,” he said with a giggle.

  Azakor's teeth clenched together as his stomach turned. He wanted to slap the word “son” out of his Uncle's mouth.

  Sasha's head spun toward Azakor. “Are you...” She glanced at Padamir and held her words. “Are you sure about all this, brother? Perhaps it would be wiser for a Guardian to take our grandfather's place.”

  Azakor studied Padamir, whose gaze looked lost. He did not defend himself. He did not argue for his own adequacy when it came to ruling the empire. Instead, he seemed to just be waiting for everyone else to make the decision for him.

  “Perhaps, Sasha. But we must adhere to our empire's rules. Especially in a time like this. The people below us, as well as the other domains, will be looking for structure.”

  “Your brother is right,” Magda said. “Padamir is next in line for the throne. This empire works because of the rules that are in place, the rules that we created.”

  Sasha tapped her finger on Azakor's chest. “But Azakor is the oldest. That means-”

  “Regardless of birth,” Magda squinted her eyes, burning her stare into her daughter, “Padamir is my husband, which makes him Azakor's father.”

  Azakor needed to use all his strength to not flinch.

  Magda turned toward Maksim. “Do you have anything to add, son?”

  Maksim folded his arms across his wide chest and spoke slowly. “I serve the empire.”

  Magda nodded in approval. “Good, then it's settled. We will celebrate the life and death of Konstantin, and then crown Padamir immediately after.”