Heroes (The Young Neos Book 5)

by Lucas Flint

  “It depends on what you mean by ‘dead,’” said the creature. “In some universes, they would be considered dead; in others, they would be considered alive. And in still others, concepts like ‘life’ and ‘death’ mean as much to the inhabitants of those universes as the scent of blue does to you. They are all in a state of suspended animation, at the very least.”

  “And what is your name?” said Blizzard. “You haven’t told me.”

  “I am Mig-Noggorth,” said the creature. “In your language, the closest translation of my name would be something like ‘He Who Uncovers Knowledge.’ It describes me very well, I think, though I find your human tongue to be extremely clumsy and incapable of expressing certain subtleties that the language of the Starborn can.”

  “Mig-Noggorth,” Blizzard repeated. “Right. Well, where am I? And what are you going to do to me?”

  “You are still on the Incinerator,” said Mig-Noggorth, gesturing at the room all around them. “You are in my personal laboratory, which is aboard the ship. A couple of Servants dragged you here after one of your friends escaped through a clever usage of that funny toy you humans wear on your wrists. I must admit, I have never seen Omanx get that angry before; I thought for sure that he was going to execute you and your other friend for this, plus the two guards who discovered it.”

  “So you aren’t going to kill me and Treehugger?” said Blizzard hopefully.

  “Of course,” said Mig-Noggorth. “The Starborn gave us specific orders to bring back any superhumans we capture alive. If we killed you two, the Starborn would be very displeased. I had to remind Omanx of that, as he was just about ready to order you and your friend thrown out the airlock, which would have defeated the purpose of capturing you three in the first place.”

  Blizzard shuddered at the thought of being thrown out into the void between dimensions like that. “So, uh, why am I here? I don’t know where Shell went, if that’s what you are going to ask me. He was trying to get back to Earth, but I don’t know if his portal actually sent him back there or not.”

  “Oh, I was not going to ask you where the shelled one went,” said Mig-Noggorth, shaking his head. “He is likely lost somewhere in the multiverse and it would be a complete waste of time to go looking for him when we have two perfectly good superhumans right here. The only thing we’re changing is that we have taken away your wrist toys—”

  “You mean our suit-up watches?”

  “—whatever you humans call them,” said Mig-Noggorth dismissively. “We did not know that they could be altered to work as makeshift dimension-hopping machines. I am going to study them myself in order to understand how they work, because our data originally suggested that you humans have yet to master dimension-hopping tech and this anomaly has forced us to reevaluate your threat level.”

  “Threat level? Threat to who?”

  “The Starborn, naturally. They already considered your species a threat due to the speed at which the neogene is spreading, but the fact that you have rudimentary dimension-hopping tech has pushed you to a new threat level: ‘Immediate Extinction.’ Before, you were merely at ‘Urgent Extinction,’ which is just below ‘Immediate Extinction,’ but not as important.”

  Good going, Shell, Blizzard thought. You just made things even worse for us. Ah, well. At least he got away. Maybe he’ll be able to salvage the situation by bringing back help.

  Mig-Noggorth floated over to her, his three eyes looking down at her with a rather disturbing look on his face. “You needn’t worry about the difference in threat levels, however, because in practice they mean the same thing: The utter annihilation of your species at the glorious hands of the Starborn.”

  “This is insane,” said Blizzard. She struggled to sit up, but the chains on her wrists and ankles were too heavy. “Humans are not a threat to anyone. The Starborn don’t have the right to destroy us.”

  Mig-Noggorth tilted his head to the side. “Oh? I seem to recall that it was humans who eliminated the Pokacu species relatively recently. Superhumans, to be more specific, and that doesn’t even count the other species your kind has wiped out over your time on your planet. I can’t say that the human race has a reputation for peacefulness and wisdom when they gain new power.”

  Blizzard bit her lower lip. She didn’t want to admit that Mig-Noggorth had a point, so she said instead, “You still haven’t said what you’re going to do to me. If you’re not going to kill me, what are you going to do instead? Torture me?”

  Mig-Noggorth’s mouth twisted into the most hideous smile Blizzard had ever seen in her life. “What a simple-minded creature you humans are. Unlike Omanx, I take no pleasure in mindlessly torturing my enemies. Everything I do is for the advancement of science and knowledge. Torture usually doesn’t help advance either cause, however fun it might sometimes be.”

  One of Mig-Noggorth’s hands grabbed something out of a compartment in his metal shell and held it up. It looked like some kind of needle/headphone jack hybrid, a piece of equipment which Blizzard had never seen before but which immediately made her feel afraid for her life, whatever Mig-Noggorth might have said about the orders from the Starborn.

  “Instead, I am going to experiment upon you,” said Mig-Noggorth. “You will be the very first superhuman I have ever had the pleasure of experimenting upon. I will be able to learn all sorts of things about you and your kind, knowledge that will undoubtedly be of great aid to the Starborn in the coming years.”

  “Whoa, hey now,” said Blizzard, looking at the strange needle worryingly. “There’s no need to do that. I mean, the Starborn created superhumans, right? If you’re so curious about us, why not just ask them about how our bodies work?”

  “Because creations of the Starborn always change even when the Starborn leave them alone,” Mig-Noggorth replied. “The environmental pressures of your planet Earth have undoubtedly caused some interesting changes in your biology. It will be interesting to find out just how much your bodies have changed in response to your planet’s environment since the Starborn altered your earliest ancestors, though I can’t guarantee that it will not be painful.”

  “What is that needle thing in your hand?” said Blizzard. “Is it a weapon?”

  “This?” said Mig-Noggorth. He waved the object over Blizzard’s face. “This is a DNA reader. By sticking it into your brain, I should be able to gain a complete copy of your entire DNA structure, which I will then be able to feed into my computer, which will analyze the data and compare it with the information I already have on your kind.”

  “You said it would hurt,” said Blizzard. “But it won’t kill me, right?”

  “Right,” said Mig-Noggorth. “But just because it won’t kill you doesn’t mean it won’t cause you other problems. It might leave you with permanent brain damage, for example; it shouldn’t, given how I have worked hard at perfecting this technology, but sometimes even the best equipment backfires. This is just what you humans would call a ‘heads up,’ I believe.”

  Blizzard didn’t know what she found more horrifying: The idea of having alien technology stuck into her brain or Mig-Noggorth using Earth slang. She decided that the latter, while creepy, was a lot less disturbing than the former, though she still hoped that Mig-Noggorth would stop using Earth slang from now on, if only because it was kind of weird.

  “Anyway, I believe I’ve spoken enough,” said Mig-Noggorth. He raised the DNA reader above his eyes. “One quick jab into your forehead and I will soon have all of your DNA on my computer. It shouldn’t take longer than five minutes, if even that much, though it will probably be painful for the entirety of that time period.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The sudden explosion of fire and glass above startled Pantalone and Volto, causing the Venetians to look up at it in surprise. But Talon, seeing her chance, rushed toward Pantalone and slashed at him with her claws. Because Pantalone was distracted by the explosion, he didn’t have time to defend himself and Talon’s claws ripped through his chest. Pantalone
fell over with a cry, but Talon did not stop; she just ran over him, her hands over her head now as she fled. She fully expected Volto to start shooting at her, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw that Volto was kneeling over Pantalone, apparently checking to make sure that he was okay.

  This would have been the perfect opportunity for Talon to take down Volto, too, but she was still too injured to risk a direct confrontation with Volto. Besides, Volto still had his gun, with which he could shoot her. What Talon needed more than anything at the moment was to find a place safe to hide. Actually, she really needed to find one of the others; she’d even have been happy to see White at this point, because there was no way she could keep running forever.

  Talon looked up at the burning warehouse. Massive flames ate through the metal roof, shooting out of the windows like lightning bolts. Talon wondered where the explosion had come from. Did Bolt cause it? Or was it Electrica’s fault? Or maybe neither were responsible. Perhaps it was a gas leak or something like that.

  Just as Talon thought that, however, she heard a loud scream above her, getting closer and closer every second. She looked up, but at first did not see anything in the dark sky or amid the smoke rising ever higher from the burning warehouse. But then she saw something—no, someone—falling toward her, though she had difficulty identifying them at first due to the low light conditions.

  But then, from the light of the flames, Talon saw a flash of green and immediately knew that it was Stinger. Why he was falling, she did not know; he must have been blown off the roof when the warehouse exploded. Regardless, he was coming straight toward her, but there was no way that she would be able to catch him, yet if he hit the concrete, he would get splattered against the pavement. She wondered why he wasn’t using his wings to stop or at least slow his descent, but she had no time to think about that, because Stinger was going to hit the ground any second now and he would die.

  But then there was a flash of blue and white and Stinger was gone. Talon blinked several times, wondering where Stinger had gone, before she heard a familiar voice above her shout, “Talon!”

  Looking up, Talon saw White Lightning floating down toward her. In his arms was a very shaken-looking Stinger, who was clinging to White as tightly as a baby clung to its mother. White, on the other hand, looked a lot less shaken than Stinger, though he did look rather disturbed when he glanced over his shoulder at the burning warehouse.

  “White? Stinger? Are you two okay?” said Talon as White landed before her. “Were either of you hurt by the explosion?”

  “I’m okay,” said White. He nodded at Stinger. “Not sure about him, though.”

  Stinger looked terrible. Though his costume was still visibly green, it was also crisped black in some places, particularly around the waist and legs. His wings were also burning slightly, while his eyes were wide with fear. He still hadn’t let go of White, even though they were back on the ground now. He didn’t even seem to be aware that they had landed. He looked like he was going to hold onto White forever and ever.

  “Um, Stinger?” said Talon, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  Stinger suddenly shook his head and looked around in confusion. “Wait, what? Where am I? What happened? The explosion …”

  “Big blast sent you flying,” said White. “Almost crashed into ground. Would have splattered like bug. I caught you, though.”

  Stinger blinked several times at White’s explanation before apparently realizing that he was holding onto him, because Stinger immediately let go of White and jumped off of him. Unfortunately for Stinger, however, he stumbled and nearly fell over due to his injuries, forcing Talon to catch him and help him stand upright with her support.

  “Now, now, Stinger, you clearly need to rest,” said Talon as she helped him get down on the ground. “You took the full brunt of the explosion. I’m surprised you’ve even still alive.”

  Stinger grunted. “Eh, the roof took the brunt of it for me. I think Bolt must have gotten the worse of it, though, because he was still inside the warehouse when it blew up.”

  “Brother,” said White with sudden realization. He turned around to face the burning warehouse. “Must save brother. Must make sure he is okay.”

  But Talon reached out and put a hand on White’s shoulder. “Wait, White. I know you want to help Bolt, but Stinger and I both need medical attention, not to mention that the Venetians are still around. We need you to get us to the nearest hospital or back to Hero Island or whatever in order to get our wounds looked at.”

  “But brother is in danger,” said White. “And no Venetians around. Don’t see any.”

  Talon immediately looked back in the direction in which she had last seen Volto and Pantalone. To her surprise, the two Venetians were nowhere to be seen; it was like they had both vanished into thin air. She realized that they must have fled as soon as White showed up; it made sense, given how badly wounded Pantalone had been and how relatively useless Volto’s power would have been in a fight. She was relieved to see that they were gone, even though she knew that that meant they had not seen the last of them.

  “That may be so, but—” Talon grimaced and put a hand on her chest. “We still need your help.”

  White turned to face her, a serious look on his face. “I will be in and out before you know it. Don’t want brother to die.”

  Though White spoke as simply as ever, Talon suddenly noticed a certain strength in his voice that she had never noticed before. He showed absolutely no hesitation in his voice or in his eyes. He also didn’t look like he wanted to argue with Talon. He simply met her gaze with his own and Talon realized, for the first time since knowing White, that there was no way that she would ever be able to convince him to stay with her and Stinger.

  Normally, such a thought would have bothered her, because Talon didn’t like it when someone didn’t listen to her, but this time, she just accepted it. She took her hand off of White’s shoulder and said, “All right, White. You do what you need to do. But please be careful. Those flames could hurt you.”

  White nodded and, without another word, flew into the burning warehouse. Talon watched him go, uncertain how she felt about him now. He still seemed a bit too strange for her tastes, but on the other hand, she had to admit that she admired men who were willing to do what they wanted even if that meant defying someone else. She now finally understood how White and Bolt were brothers; they both had a similar loyalty to each other that she had rarely seen elsewhere.

  A groan from below snapped Talon out of her thoughts. She looked down at Stinger, who was lying on the ground with his hands on his head.

  “Stinger, how do your wings feel?” asked Talon, bending over to look at him closer. “Can you still feel them?”

  “Yes,” said Stinger with a groan. “And I wish I couldn’t. Do you think White and Bolt will be okay?”

  “I don’t know,” said Talon. She looked up at the warehouse again. “I can only hope.”

  The flames crackled and roared across the warehouse, while Talon and Stinger watched the flames grow larger and larger. Another portion of the roof caved in suddenly and there was a sound of popping metal. The stench of burning metal and black smoke filled Talon’s nostrils, but she barely paid attention to it, because she was so concerned about White and Bolt that she didn’t notice anything else. Even her own chest wound barely registered on her pain receptors; all she wanted was confirmation that White and Bolt would be okay.

  Abruptly, something burst out through one of the broken windows, sending more glass and wood flying everywhere. At first, Talon thought it was just another fireball, but the flames around it quickly vanished, revealing that it was three people. To be more specific, it was White, flying as quickly as ever, with two people slung over his shoulder. It was hard to tell who they were, however, until White landed on the ground nearby and laid them both on the ground as gently as he could.

  Now that White was close, Talon could tell that, while he
had managed to avoid the worst of the flames, he had still not escaped entirely unscathed. His costume was slightly blackened around the edges, while a few stray hairs had been crisped. He also smelled like smoke and he coughed slightly like he had inhaled too much smoke.

  But White looked almost perfect in comparison to the two people lying on the ground, who Talon identified as Bolt and Electrica. Bolt’s costume already was very black, but his costume was even more blackened than usual, not to mention how he was hacking and coughing like he had inhaled a ton of smoke.

  Electrica looked even worse. In addition to her blackened costume, it looked like she had been stabbed in the gut by something sharp. Miraculously, she appeared to still be alive, if unconscious, because her chest rose and fell with every breath. Talon doubted, however, that Electrica would live much longer unless she got medical attention quickly.

  “There,” said White, his voice slightly weak, probably due to the smoke. “Saved them. Brother is safe. So is lightning lady.”

  “Great job, White,” said Stinger, giving him the thumbs up. “Can’t believe you did it.”

  “Yes, that’s wonderful and all, but weren’t there more people in the warehouse?” said Talon, glancing back at the burning building uncertainly. “I seem to remember two men entering the place, but—”

  “We’re still here,” said a voice from the shadows. “We managed to get out before the building exploded.”

  From between two nearby shipping containers stepped the two men who Talon had seen enter the warehouse earlier. Both men looked fine, as if they had somehow managed to escape all of the fighting that had happened in the last ten minutes or so. They were both, however, sweating, no doubt due to the intense heat radiating from the warehouse.

  Talon turned to face them. “You two. Who are you? And why are you here?”

  The younger man, the one with the goatee, stepped forward, his expression grim. “My name is Eli Corey and I am the leader of the Unwanted. This is Chip, a fellow member of the Unwanted. We’re the reason your friends got hurt.”