The Guardians Omnibus

by Damien Benoit-Ledoux

  Quinn sensed more uneasy tension from the student body the moment he walked into the cafeteria to sit with Loren and Ravone before classes started. Keegan joined them several minutes later, and like the rest of their peers, they participated in hushed conversations. Cliques and groups stared at other cliques and groups as they all tried to figure out who among them were the best candidates to be Blue Spekter. Friends who once trusted each other now regarded one another with suspicion, and the added stress of police and DHS agents standing in the cafeteria or roaming the hallways created an intense atmosphere of trepidation and teenage angst.

  Throughout the day, moving between classes and observing different parts of the student body, Quinn noticed most students opted not to wear any Clippers apparel to school that day, probably for fear of being singled out as Blue Spekter. Quinn couldn’t get near Mr. St. Germain all day because students peppered him with questions and worries because everyone knew he was the resident comic book nerd.

  When Quinn passed Blake in the hallways between classes, he noted the subtle smirk others would never see. Blake silently taunted him and there was nothing Quinn could do or say that would stop him—not at school, at least.

  ❖

  Exhausted from a terrible night’s sleep and irritated by an exceptional day of unnecessary media-induced terror at school, Quinn screwed up one too many orders at Breaking New Grounds during his afternoon shift. At the end of his shift, Matt, his annoyed boss, told him to go to bed early that night. Rather than go home, Quinn flew around Portsmouth under the cover of dusk, hoping to sense Blake somewhere, but instead he found himself hovering over Pease Tradeport. There, he spotted the damaged U.S. Air Force KC-135 Stratotanker he had saved from crashing into Portsmouth, Kittery, or the ocean over a month ago.

  I didn’t even get a public thank you…

  Lost in his thoughts, Quinn walked along the spine of the massive plane. When he reached the damaged vertical stabilizer at the back of the plane, he turned around and made his way back toward the cockpit, his hands clasped behind his back.

  This is insane. I have no one to talk to about this stuff anymore and I can’t keep bugging Mr. St. Germain. Why the hell did Blake have to be stupid and walk away from our friendship? Maybe it’s time I told my dads, but I don’t know…that seems too risky right now, especially with the way the police are reacting at school. They’ll arrest my dads and…who knows what will happen. Still, the only thing keeping them from finding me is the odd fact that Chief Applegate is keeping her mouth shut…why? If she’s part of The Order, wouldn’t Victor have told her who we are? Unless he told her not to come after us…

  Dusk gave way to night, but a full moon illuminated the otherwise dark tarmac. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to check the notification. Keegan had texted him: Hey, just thinking about you with lots of smiles. That’s all. XOXO.

  He pocketed his phone and smiled, absentmindedly staring at the gray metal surface of the plane as he approached the cockpit. I’m really lucky…I have to remember that, even when things aren’t going well.

  To his left, someone cleared their throat. He looked down at the ground and saw a uniformed man looking up at him, his hands on his hips. “Hey kid, would you mind telling me what you’re doing on top of my bird? Let alone how you managed to get past security and climb up there without a ladder?”

  “Oh shit.” Quinn muttered, unsure of what to do. He tensed and froze. The man’s southern drawl, combined with Quinn’s super vision, confirmed he was one of the plane’s three crew members he had saved.

  The man folded his arms across his chest. “It’s you, isn’t it? Your eyes aren’t glowing, though.”

  What do I say? Do I admit who I am to this guy?

  “You don’t look to be much older than my son, and he’s about fifteen.”

  “Uhhh…” Quinn slowly pulled his sweatshirt hood up over his head in case others were watching.

  “I know we thanked you when we climbed out of the cockpit several weeks ago, but I really want to say thank you again, Blue Spekter. This bird and its crew would have gone down, for sure.”

  When Quinn didn’t answer, the man shifted his weight nervously.

  “Well, this is a great conversation I’m having by myself. All right kid, say something and come down from there. I don’t need to make a fool of myself tonight. You have to be Blue Spekter; I can’t imagine anyone else getting in here and climbing on top of the plane.”

  Quinn jumped off the plane and floated down to the pilot.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Quinn answered, looking into the man’s blue eyes.

  “I take it I’m the first to see your face?”

  Quinn nodded. “Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “I understand. I owe you my life, so rest assured, I’ll take your secret to the grave, not that I know your name or anything about you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What are you doing up there, anyway?”

  “Thinking. I was looking for someone, but, it was quiet and I thought no one was around.”

  “There’s always someone watching this place.” He extended his hand. “I’m Captain David Prett. Call me David.”

  Quinn accepted and shook the man’s hand. “Blue Spekter.”

  David chuckled. “I take it you’ve had a long day and, well, I saw the news this morning. So, are they right?”

  Quinn sighed. “Yeah. It was pretty stupid of me to wear that sweatshirt. It was a shit-show at school today.”

  “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”

  Quinn glared at him. “I have two dads.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “I’m not.” Quinn smirked, watching the wheels turn behind the man’s eyes as he processed what Quinn said.

  “That’s not what I meant, son.”

  “I know,” he replied. Then, he jerked his head to the left wing. “When are they going to fix your bird?”

  David looked at the wing and shifted his feet. “They’ve ordered a whole new wing and a set of brand new engines. That’ll all take several months to repair in a hangar.

  “So, are you stuck here until they fix it?” Quinn asked.

  David laughed. “No, I’ve been out and back on other birds. I just happened to catch you at the right time.” He pointed to a nearby stratotanker. “I’m taking that one out in the morning.”

  “Oh,” Quinn said.

  An awkward silence descended upon them for a moment.

  “Look, I should go.”

  “They really want you, Blue. You’re all over the chatter at every level.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m not sure if I’m going to regret letting you see my face,” Quinn said, looking into the man’s eyes. They conveyed strictness and a genuine honesty Quinn saw in the eyes of Mr. St. Germain.

  “I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” David answered. “There’s nothing I can really say to convince you otherwise.”

  Quinn nodded. “Yup.”

  “Actually, maybe there is, son. It takes three of us to fly and operate this plane. We have to trust one another each time we fly and perform midair refueling operations and whenever something goes wrong—which is almost never. However, as you know, something went really wrong weeks back and you showed up out of the blue, no pun intended. We had to trust you were there to help and not make things worse. Then, we had to hope and pray you could work with our team and understand what we and the fighter pilots were trying to communicate with you, and you did. Shit, son, you landed the plane safely!”

  “Now who’s swearing?”

  “Touché. My point is, I’m on your team, Blue Spekter. I’ve paid attention to the news and followed your actions. You save people. I think you can do a lot of good in this world, and I want to see you succeed.”

  Let’s see how serious you really are. Quinn looked the man in the eye. “There’s a storm coming, David. I’m not the only super-powered person. There’s another like me…my best friend, well e
x-best friend…we got our powers back in September.”

  “Really?” David exclaimed, interested in what Quinn shared.

  “To make a long story short, he now works for the people who own the technology that accidentally awakened our powers. That organization has motives and goals I know are evil—but they’re the kind of people who don’t want to be found and are very difficult to find. In fact, I just discovered their secret base the other day, right here in Portsmouth. They’re lurking, simmering all around us waiting for the right moment; they’ve infiltrated various levels of leadership and well, when the storm comes…I’m going to stop them.”

  David stared at him with confusion and suspicion. “Uh…”

  “Sounds like a video game or a James Bond movie, huh? One massive, crazy kid’s conspiracy theory, right?”

  “It is a bit much to take in,” David answered, nodding.

  “So is this,” Quinn answered, making his eyes glow blue. He raised his right hand and created a perfectly round ball of crystal-clear ice.

  David stared at it with awe. “And what exactly does this organization want to do?”

  Quinn shut off his eyes and handed the ice ball to David, who took it and rotated the cold orb in his hand. “They have the ability to manipulate the weather. They can create storms, drought…whatever they want whenever they want…I even think wherever they want. If that’s not bad enough, it’s only a matter of time before they reverse engineer the accident that created us. Do you understand what that means?”

  The captain shifted his stance. “They could make other people like you?”

  “Worse…they could make an army of super-powered people like me—but of people who might not want to help others like I want to.”

  David whistled low in surprise.

  Quinn felt himself become defensive, yet emboldened. “So, in a nutshell, that’s what I’m up against, David, along with a government who wants to capture me and turn me inside-out. That’s why no one can know who I am; my family and friends wouldn’t be safe if people knew who I was. Unlike you, I don’t have a team, so if you really mean what you say, you need to understand the mixed-up world I’ve been thrown into. I’d give anything to go back to my old life, but I can’t. So, David, understand that being on my team is about saving the world from people who want to destroy it, but if you’re going to contribute to my nightmare, tell me right now and I’ll fly away.”

  David nodded, reached into his pocket, and produced a business card. “Here. If you ever need my help, call me. I’m not only a Stratotanker pilot. My unique division has access to a lot more than you’d expect.”

  “Like what?”

  David cleared his throat and looked around, then answered in a low voice. “Like really, really smart computer people. When you call me, simply say, ‘Hi, we’ve met before.’ I’ll know it’s you and I’ll get back to Pease as quickly as I can.”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow with curiosity. Quinn took the business card from the captain and shook his hand. “Welcome to the team.”

  “How many are on this team?” he asked.

  Quinn shrugged. “Now we’re three.”

  “And does this team have a name?”

  “Not yet.”

  3-6 | Leveling Up

  Blake

  BLAKE RAN THROUGH THE COLD night, wearing his new purple super suit bottoms as running tights so they would stretch a little and adjust to his physique. He pushed himself hard, but not enough to trigger his super speed powers. His body’s muscle structure had improved and filled out over the past few weeks—a direct result of the orgone energy infusion—and he had splurged on a shopping spree to buy new clothes that fit over his much broader shoulders and thicker muscles. Not that he minded, of course; he looked good and several girls and a couple guys at school took notice, offering him compliments despite his withdrawn attitude.

  Physical exertion from running and mental anguish over his lack of progress within The Order soaked the dark fitness hoodie he wore with sweat, but he didn’t care. Weeks beyond his proven loyalty to Victor, when he viciously turned his back on his best friend, he found himself no closer to learning anything important or critical about The Order’s true nature or Victor’s plans for him. Instead, Victor insisted he receive various kinds of physical and combat training that Blake considered beneath him. His patience with Victor and The Order, he felt, was quickly approaching an impasse.

  A gunshot rang out in the distance and he jerked his head to the right to look behind him. Seeing nothing, he turned back, but it was too late.

  His sneaker slipped into a large crack in the asphalt and he tripped. Panic set in as he lost his balance and tumbled forward, extending his hands to catch his fall. Instead, he glided through the air in a prone position.

  “What the hell? Am I…” he said aloud, but stopped short, afraid of jinxing the moment.

  Can I finally fly?

  He looked ahead and thought about moving faster; a moment later, his body responded and he accelerated, flying a foot over the road’s asphalt surface. He, laughed, his eyes suddenly blazing bright orange as he veered left and right, zig-zagging down the empty street.

  Climb!

  He willed himself upward into the sky, but at the last second saw power lines in his path that crossed over the road.

  “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, putting his hands in front of his face, his body reflexively curling into a defensive ball.

  His right arm touched one of the wires as his body stopped ascending. His torso reverse-somersaulted and his feet swung up in front of him. His left shin touched a second wire and electricity arced between his hand and his knee. The powerful shock spun him to the right. Out of control, gravity took over and pulled him to the ground where he landed with a thud on his buttocks and back.

  “Ow,” he said softly, fading into unconsciousness.

  Several minutes later, the smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils and he lifted his right hand up to look at it. His now-black right hand and his left shin felt itchy as the skin cells regenerated from the electrical burn. The back of his head also throbbed like a hypertension headache, but a series of small, sharp pains made him wince. He rubbed his temples and looked up at the overhead power lines and frowned. A few feet away, tree branches extended across the road.

  Oh man, let’s not do that again. Mental note; watch out for power lines and tree branches at night.

  Moments later, when he felt better, he took a deep breath and slowly sat up. Nothing felt out of place except for the dull pain in his head, so pushed up from the ground and then walked out from under the power lines.

  Please work…

  He closed his eyes and focused, imagining himself lifting off the ground. Then, his eyes blazing and his body glowing, he slowly ascended.

  Fuck yeah!

  Raising his right hand above his head, he avoided the power lines and flew straight up, watching Kittery fall away beneath him. He turned and looked out to the Piscataqua River Bridge and the harbor, admiring the unique view.

  “I’m flying!” he shouted, laughing into the night sky.

  He pushed forward and aimed for the arch of the bridge, but he strained to ascend to the apex.

  Come on, damn it, fly up!

  He stalled out just over the road deck of the bridge and hovered in the air.

  Seriously?

  He shouted and put his fist up, willing himself to fly up to the top of the bridge, but he only ascended another foot.

  This must be one of those powers that grows with time…

  He faced the ocean and stared at the various night lights on the ground. I wonder how fast I can go…

  Turning around and leaning forward, he pushed through the cold night air with his mind and his body responded. He grinned and moved as fast as he could, flying upriver toward Dover. Orange light streaked behind him as he accelerated, but he knew he wasn’t flying as fast as Quinn could fly.

  I have telekinesis, fire, and now flight…there’s no
thing Victor or Quinn can do to stop me. Speaking of Victor…I’m going to keep this little secret to myself. He doesn’t need to know everything, especially if I’m going to put him out of a job.

  ❖

  The next morning, Blake parked his BMW and walked to the main entrance of the facility, curiously watching Radoslav and a few other agents load the tortured, dead man’s body—now dressed in a bloody green T-shirt—into the driver’s seat of a black sports car. Blake shrugged it off and made his way through security to Victor’s office. Sometimes it’s better not knowing what that man does.

  Inside the office area, Blake paused and leaned against the wall outside Victor’s office. He grabbed his head with his hands and closed his eyes. It still hurt—like it had all night and morning—from the previous night’s electrical shock, and he rubbed his temples in an effort to alleviate the pain that radiated from the back of his skull. He took a deep breath and then knocked on the frame of Victor’s open doorway. “Hey, I saw your text. You had a question for me?” he asked.

  “Hi, Blake. Sorry to call you in on a Sunday afternoon. I hope I didn’t disrupt your plans. Um…are you okay?”

  Blake shrugged. “Nah, I just, um, I have a date in a few minutes in Portsmouth and I have a wicked tension headache.” He rubbed the back of his head and the top of his neck with his left hand.

  Victor smiled. “Ah, sorry about that. Must be nerves. Congratulations though. I’ll be quick. I have a rather strange question for you.”

  “Shoot.” He walked up to Victor’s desk and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Victor leaned back in his chair. “Were you in the facility last night after we left?”

  Blake shook his head and rubbed it again. “No, why?” Crap, did someone see me flying around?

  “The reactor’s monitors detected several dips in orgone conversion. We usually observe that variance when you walk through the reactor core. Your body must automatically absorb orgone when it’s abundant in high concentrations.”