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

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  Hector made his way into the arsenal and assembled his armored suit as Esmeralda questioned him over and over. He could tell she was having second thoughts about sending their son out on a hunt. By the time he'd strapped everything on his own body, Miguel walked into the room.

  “And you're sure he completed all his schoolwork?” Esmeralda asked.

  Hector nodded and said in his low, rumbling voice, “Miguel did everything we asked.”

  Esmeralda raised an eyebrow and asked, “What about your exercise regiment? Did you-”

  “I did double reps today, mother,” Miguel said, rolling back and forth on the heels of his feet, trying to expel his built up energy somewhere.

  Esmeralda pushed her hair behind her ears and let out a defeated sigh. “Very well. Then I suppose I should outfit you for this evening's mission.”

  Miguel nearly knocked her over as he rushed past her, his eyes lighting up as they scanned the walls of weapons. After a quick browse, he rushed to his favorite gun, placing his hands on it carefully and gently removing the assault rifle from its hooks. But before he could lift it, Hector placed his hand on Miguel's arm.

  “Bullets will be of no use against the man we are hunting tonight.”

  Miguel held in his disappointment and nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”

  Esmeralda smiled down at their son. “That doesn't mean we'll be sending you in empty handed.”

  She pressed a button on the wall next to the mannequin where Hector stored his suit. A door slid open, revealing a second, smaller mannequin covered in another average-looking suit and tie. Miguel rushed toward it, his eyes glowing with excitement when he realized the mannequin was the same size as him.

  “Is this... is this...?”

  Esmeralda chuckled. “It's for you, my son. You'll both need the stealth function and armor and gadgets that I put into these get-ups.”

  She helped him with the entire set-up, from the magnetic boots to the armored leggings. She showed him the chest plate woven into the dress shirt and the controller built into the watch. Hector felt nothing but pride while he watched the two of them.

  “Do you remember the training we did on the computer?” Hector asked. “Do you remember how to use the interface?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then I want you to activate the stealth mode.”

  Miguel pushed a series of buttons on his watch and ended it by twisting the face counter-clockwise. The suit flickered for a moment and the technology built into the collar blurred his face, just a little.

  “Perfect,” Esmeralda said. “Much more inconspicuous than a mask and costume, yet just as effective. Especially at night, people won't notice the suit affecting their vision. No camera will be able to take your picture, and no person will recognize you as the heir to the MajesTech fortune. You will be anonymous.”

  When they all exited the penthouse and walked toward the MajesTech underground parking, the security officer behind the front desk waved.

  “Good evening, Hank.”

  The guard reached under the desk and lifted up a cake pan full of peach cobbler. “Delores said she made it exactly how she did for Jacob in accounting's birthday. Just like you said.”

  “Wonderful!” Esmeralda patted her belly. “I can't wait to dig in. But I'm afraid right now these boys are in a bit of a rush.”

  “Off to see my first opera,” Miguel said with excitement, and Esmeralda smiled at his lie.

  “No problem, ma'am! I'll keep it in the fridge here under the desk and when you return-”

  “We'll all enjoy it, I'm sure. Good night, Hank,” she said as she walked out the door.

  While Miguel was good at the art of casual lying, Hector made a mental note to ask Esmeralda about creating a secret entrance for them. It could solve a lot of issues.

  The driverless car was waiting in its parking spot, but before Miguel could climb in, Esmeralda grabbed him by the shoulders and spoke to him, staring straight into his eyes.

  “I want you to listen to everything your father says tonight. He is a master at what he does, and as long as you follow his orders, you'll be safe.”

  “Of course, mother.”

  After Miguel slid into the car and the engine started, Esmeralda stopped Hector and asked, “You have the concoction I mixed for you?”

  “Of course I do. This kill wouldn't be possible without it.”

  She smiled and whispered, “Come home safe.”

  Hector gave her a kiss goodbye before he whispered back, “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Of course I don't, silly man,” Esmeralda said with a wink. “You're Knight Wolf. The urban warrior of justice, bane of the wrongdoer, and crusader against the criminal underworld.”

  Hector knew she was picking on him, but before he climbed into the car, he cupped her cheek in his hand and said, “Not anymore. Now I'm just your husband.”

  The car pulled out of the underground parking lot as Hector input an address into the GPS. He then flipped open a screen on the back of the front seat. The screen blinked to life, and a dossier appeared in front of them.

  “This is Donald Fitzpatrick,” he said, tapping the face of the middle-aged man on the screen. “His disease is super speed. He spent time with the Alliance of Heroes after he graduated from the academy, but his predilection for underage girls got him kicked out. And his infertility made him useless to the Zharkovs. But he still roams free, posing a threat to the entire city.”

  Miguel leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn't think a corrupt organization like the Alliance would care much about sexual perversions.”

  Hector glared at the man's face on the screen. “They caught him sixteen times before they did anything. Even the state-run media couldn't cover it up anymore. The court of public opinion forced their hand.”

  “That's disgusting.”

  “Correct. But now that we know his flaw, we can use it against him. Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” Miguel said, nodding slowly.

  Hector tapped on the screen again, closing the dossier. “Donald Fitzpatrick didn't lose his perversions when he left the alliance. He still needed an outlet for his urges, and he found one. He visits this place every week, on this night. So now we know exactly where he's going to be.”

  The driverless car pulled into an abandoned lot across the street from a two-story building with a red light bulb glowing above the door.

  Hector pointed out the window. “That place is full of perverts and pedophiles and sex fiends. Human trash. Everyone inside is either predator or prey. And every single one of them is expendable if it means killing our target.”

  Miguel didn't look convinced. “But, like you said, some of them are prey. Some of them are victims.”

  Hector grabbed his son's face and stared into his eyes. “And if they must die to prevent anyone else from becoming a victim, so be it. One life for countless others.”

  Miguel nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “The plan is quite simple, but for tonight, I want you to observe. That's all. You move when I tell you to, and you never speak. Do you understand?”

  Miguel nodded again, this time a bit more reluctantly. “Yes, sir.”

  Hector recognized his disappointment. His son wanted to pull the trigger, to be the hunter, to bring home the big game. But Hector had promised Esmeralda that he would slow their son into his role. Hector's style was to drop him into the water to teach him to swim, but Esmeralda had taught him patience. And so he would follow her orders and keep his promise.

  “Let's move,” Hector said as he activated the stealth mode in his collar, blurring his face.

  Miguel did the same and followed him out of the car. His son kept four paces behind him at all times, just as they had practiced. When they reached the door, he turned to keep an eye in the opposite direction, always watching his father's back. Hector rapped his knuckles on the metal door.

  A small hole slid open and a voice on the ot
her side asked, “Password?”

  Hector did his best downtown accent and said, “Come on, brutha, I'm horny,” and slid a few hundred dollars into the opening.

  There was a pause before the voice said, “Good enough for me,” and the door unlocked.

  Hector slid his hand into his jacket and pulled out a Sig Sauer semi-automatic pistol with a silencer attached to the barrel. He kicked opened the door, knocking the bouncer to the floor, and stepped inside. He pressed the barrel of the silencer to the bouncer's head and pulled the trigger. A red splatter of brains sprayed against the wall. Hector snatched the spent shell in the air so that he wouldn't leave behind any evidence. The bullet itself would disintegrate within seconds. It was a wonderful design from Esmeralda.

  A prostitute screamed from the coat check. Hector fired again. A bullet slammed into the prostitute's chest, throwing her back into the wall of coats.

  He took a moment and checked the book sitting on the podium next to the door. It had the names, times, and room numbers of everyone who had checked in. He ran his finger down the page until he saw the name DON and ROOM 209 hastily written on one of the lines.

  Hector moved down the corridor with purpose, gripping the pistol with both hands. A man stepped out of one of the rooms, his eyes growing wide when he noticed Hector. There was a bullet between the man's eyes one second later.

  When Hector reached the stairwell, another man was molesting a young boy halfway up the stairs. He was so involved in his perverse manhandling, that he didn't notice Hector. Hector pressed the silencer against the back of his head and pulled the trigger. The bullet fired straight through the man's brain and into the young boy's face. Both bodies rolled down the stairs and Miguel leapt over them, keeping four paces behind Hector.

  Hector took a moment to study Miguel's face. His son showed no fear nor disgust. He was holding firm, keeping his emotions at bay, just as they had practiced. He was doing perfectly. So when they reached the top of the stairs, he decided to give his son a bigger role.

  Hector reached into the utility pouches strapped inside his suit coat, and retrieved two bottles. He tossed them both to Miguel.

  “Soak the carpet. Make sure it's completely covered.”

  Miguel nodded and set to his task. Soon the potent scent of Esmeralda's mixture filled the hallway. It smelled like crude oil and vanilla.

  His son returned to his side at the opposite end of the hall from the stairwell and stood behind him. Hector placed his pistol back in its holster and retrieved the third and final bottle from its pouch.

  When he pressed his palm against the door with 209 spray-painted on it, the microphone built into his glove picked up the sounds of grunting, moaning, and the squeaking of a cheap mattress coming from inside. He extended a small camera from his wristwatch and stuck it under the door. He saw the shape of a bent over man gyrating on the bed, the silhouette framed by the light coming through the window. When he stood back up, he made a motion to Miguel, who pressed himself against the wall.

  Hector gripped the doorknob and turned it slowly to the left. When the door was completely unlatched, he threw it open. The man hunched over the bed looked shocked for only a moment, but it was enough time for Hector to spray the liquid inside the bottle across the man's naked body. There was a flash of movement when the man finally reacted, first moving across the room to his clothes, which he put on in less than a second. Then he vaulted toward the door, knocking Hector to the side and rushing down the hallway at super speed.

  The friction caused by his feet rushing across the carpet at such high speeds caused Esmeralda's concoction on the floor to erupt in flames. The fluid on his own body erupted as well, and soon the man looked like a fireball shooting down the stairs.

  Hector shoved the young girl inside the room to the side and rushed to the window, Miguel right behind him. He crossed his arms in front of him and leapt through the window pane, falling two stories and landing on the pavement with a roll. When he came to his feet, his son dropped behind him, the exo-skeleton built into his suit softening the impact.

  The burning man exploded from the front door, flailing his arms and screaming as he tried to put out the flames. But the concoction that Esmeralda had created wouldn't stop burning for hours. The blazing man bounced around the street wildly, the super speed causing the fire to whip around him, the blue flames burning intensely hot. But soon enough the body fell to the ground, convulsing in a blur until it stopped moving altogether.

  Hector cautiously approached the still burning body and retrieved the pistol from his suit coat. He emptied the magazine, riddling the body with bullets. When he was done, he looked up at the brothel and watched the smoke pour from the windows. Men and women of all ages came rushing out the front door, screaming and crying and coughing. He turned his back on them and motioned for Miguel to follow him.

  When they both climbed into the driverless car, he smiled. “That went well.”

  Miguel nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “You did well.”

  Miguel nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  “I'm glad you got to see that first hand. Now you understand. Every diseased super power has a weakness. That man could have dodged every bullet we shot at him. His super speed could accelerate his body's ability to metabolize poison before it could affect him. And if he saw us coming? He could have twisted our necks, or gouged out our eyes, or torn out our throats before we even noticed him move. But if you surprise him when he's focused on something else, and you use your knowledge of physics to exploit his weakness, then he's just as mortal as the next man.”

  Miguel nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “We saved a lot of lives tonight, son.” Hector smiled wide as he gazed out the window, lost in the pleasant remembrance of blood and gore and the smell of burning flesh. “People might not know our names, and they may never find out what we did tonight, but don't ever forget: We are heroes.”

  13

  AZAKOR

  The Zharkovs invited all seven domains to the funeral of Konstantin Zharkov and the coronation of Padamir Zharkov. The attendees were some of the most powerful people on the planet, possessing the greatest SPMDs of any heroes or villains that fought in the Super Power War. They laid claim to their domains and because of the infinite power they wielded, no one questioned their authority over those lands. There had been border disputes, but so far everything had been settled peacefully.

  There was Domina Sandstorm from the Barrens, the wasteland desert to the south. Her body was made up of the very grains of sand that covered her domain. Her form flowed like a spinning hourglass, changing shape with every breath she took. The people in her domain were housed by the sands she commanded, with structures formed to meet any needs her people may have. But they starved in her climate, unable to grow the crops needed to feed the population. She was dependent on the empire for food, and Azakor liked that.

  Next to her stood Dominus Mastodon from Therian. The half-elephant, half-man stood taller than anyone else in the room, adorned with robes and jewels, and flanked by his two Lion-men guards. He ruled over what used to be known as Australia. His domain welcomed any humans with animal powers, but closed its borders to everyone else. He called it a sanctuary for those blessed with animalistic abilities, but the racism that thrived there tended to unsettle Azakor.

  The Hive also sent representatives. Two women and a man, all connected to the vast consciousness that interwove the millions of people together in that domain. The men and women who stood in the throne room were not special, they were just more mouthpieces for the same voice. Azakor knew there was a limit to the Hive's power, but not knowing who the source of the power was, not knowing who the actual Dominus was, did not sit well with him.

  Dominus Terracore arrived from Gaia late, nearly missing the ceremony. When he entered, Azakor watched his leaf-covered body waddle through the doors, his ragged nest of hair releasing a few birds into the throne room. Flowers bloomed under his feet with every step he to
ok, then wilted and died as his heels lifted from the spot. He left a trail of dead flower petals behind him and took a spot in the back of the room. He was a peaceful man, and Azakor appreciated the abundance of crops that his domain supplied to the empire. His offerings counteracted the dependency of the Barrens, and Azakor could appreciate that too.

  Noticeably missing was Domina Winter from the Frost. The old woman was a nemesis of Konstantin Zharkov in his early days as a costumed hero. Azakor thought she might come to gloat over his grandfather's death, or possibly just to mourn the loss of a foe she had known for so many years. Her glacial domain had slowly advanced across the entire northern pole of the planet, but she mainly kept to herself. Perhaps her seclusion had gotten the better of her. Either way, Azakor found her absence insulting.

  The American Republic sent members of the Alliance, and the Oshiros were standing on the other side of the aisle. Azakor did his best to look humble as he stood in front of them all.

  It was a strange thing to balance, both funeral and coronation. No one was sure whether they should be mourning or cheering, bowing their head in silence or filling the room with thunderous applause. So they all stared up at Magda with wide eyes, soaking in every word that his mother spoke. It was only Dominus Takahiro who did not smile. There was no rage nor burning hate in his eyes. He just stared at her with a flat, almost bored contempt.

  Magda spoke loudly and powerfully, yet with a gentleness in her voice that curled around every word. “Everyone in the world recalls hearing the tales of the imperator's youth, when he donned that crimson costume and took to the streets of Moscow to deal out justice with a warm heart and an iron fist. The October Guard heralded in a new age, an era of heroes that filled our streets and our skies with symbols of hope and prosperity. This was a generation that felt safe again, a people that could rest easy knowing someone was out there watching over even the smallest, most insignificant men and women. He inspired us all and still does, to this very day.”