“Excellent questions.” The Khagan glanced at Zephyr and waved his hand for the door. Zephyr looked at the exit then back to her master.
“Are you sure?”
He gave a nod of confirmation. Zephyr left the room, closing the door behind her. Once she was gone, the Khagan gestured for Chronos to follow him. From the throne room, he led Chronos into a seating room hidden behind. There were some very comfortable-looking couches arranged in the room in front of a large television set mounted on the wall.
“Please, sit.” The Khagan moved to one of the couches. He set Chronos’ helmet atop the coffee table between the furniture and sat down himself. Chronos followed his lead and took a seat across from him.
“Throne room is good for appearances—speeches and the like. But I would go stark-raving mad if I just sat in that chair staring at the wall for all hours of the day.” The Khagan flashed an affable smile. Chronos couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not.
“Yeah, I suppose that’d be pretty boring,” said Chronos.
“Now, about the Red Fist. We’ve existed in some form or another for centuries. I am not the first to bear the title of Khagan, just the latest,” he said. “You are probably too young to remember this, but before the Kotharians arrived, mankind was at constant war with itself. Vague justifications were given—defeating communism, combating terrorism, spreading democracy.”
The Khagan scoffed and gave a small chuckle.
“It was all nonsense, of course,” he continued. “The real reasons were two-fold: power and profit. I was once a soldier in these misguided wars. But I saw what our wars had done. How we were only creating the next generation of enemies. Perpetuating an endless cycle. And I wanted something different, something better.”
“And you found that with the Red Fist?” asked Chronos.
The Khagan nodded. “I deserted my unit. Wandered for years, following rumblings of their existence. I served my Khagan with loyalty and distinction, rising slowly through the ranks. Until once day, he appointed me his successor.
“I took the throne and title following his death, and I used the resources at my command to try and make the world a better place. As a matter of fact, the Analyst once worked by my side.”
Chronos’ eyebrows rose at that statement. “Really?”
“Different times. But my attempt to change the world for the better failed. I was comatose for many years, imprisoned by Cerberus. It wasn’t until the occupation that Zephyr and the rest of my loyal acolytes were able to discover me. Since then, I’ve been biding my time, collecting intelligence on Cerberus, seeking out their weak points. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”
“And that moment’s now?” asked Chronos.
“There is something brewing, something dangerous,” said the Khagan.
“You mentioned that. Said things were about to get a lot worse. What did you mean?”
“The Kotharians have been experimenting on specials for years. There’s a man they have in their employ. A very dangerous, unethical man.”
The Khagan reached inside his robes and pulled out a tablet. He brought up what he wanted on the touchscreen and then looked at the television. The monitor lit up, mirroring the contents of his device. Chronos looked at the screen and studied the face of the man who appeared. His skin was pale and lined with scars and he had a thin, dark beard along his chin. His left eye was gone, replaced with a glass orb. And in the right, Chronos saw not even a hint of humanity.
“Who is that?”
The Khagan pointed at the screen. “Erik Azarov. A scientist who performed some shocking experiments in his time. Not only on others but on himself as well. Somehow, he discovered a way to make himself indestructible. He’s a man of singular focus, cares about nothing more than his research. And he will side with anyone who provides him with the means to continue.”
“And the Kotharians have done that,” said Chronos.
The Khagan gave a nod. “Our sources inside Cerberus tell us that he is conducting experiments on specials, has been for years. But this goes beyond his usual experiments. You see, all of mankind was altered by the Event. We all have the special gene within us. But in many people, the gene is latent. Only a small portion of the population ever sees it activate. For years, Azarov’s research was centered on methods to activate the gene.”
“That wouldn’t benefit the Kotharians, though,” said Chronos. “They’d want to know how to permanently suppress it before they see it active.”
“You’re right. Specials pose a threat to their rule,” said the Khagan. “They want something from us, though. Whatever that may be, Azarov is trying to help them find it. And he is experimenting on specials, both dead and alive, to try and get it.”
“And this threat you mentioned?”
“Azarov has a weapon of some kind in development. I don’t know much more about it than that. But from what our sources have told me, it promises to make things even worse for the specials.”
“What kind of weapon?”
“Highly classified, which is why all we’ve been able to learn is mostly conjecture and rumor. Even well-placed sources have no real concept of what it is. It’s origin is known only to a select few. Azarov, of course. The Kotharians. And the man in charge of everything on this planet.”
Another image flashed on the screen. This one of an old man with white hair and thick glasses.
“Joseph Ramsey,” said the Khagan. “He once worked for me, but it seems he was simply using the Red Fist for his own benefit. Once the Kotharians appeared, he happily betrayed not only us, but this entire planet to curry favor with them.”
“You said you need my help. How?” asked Chronos.
The Khagan turned off the screen and set the tablet on the table. He turned his gaze to Chronos and picked up the helmet. “Tell me your story. Your armor, it seems advanced even by Kotharian standards. How is that possible?”
Chronos sighed. He wasn’t sure how much he should reveal. Something about the Khagan made him uncomfortable. Chronos got the sense that this strange man wasn’t telling him everything. And he wanted to know what was really going on. But he would have to give him something.
“I’m from the future,” he said. “A time when the Kotharians’ rule over Earth is pretty much total. There is a resistance movement and I joined them. With their help, I was able to steal this technology from the Kotharians.”
Chronos held out his hand. The Khagan felt the helmet move within his grasp. He looked down at it and was surprised when it jumped from his hands over to Chronos’.
“It’s a symbiotic connection,” said Chronos. “The armor’s integrated with my nervous system. But some of its most crucial components were damaged in the time-jump.”
“You’re saying you came here from the future?”
Chronos nodded. “To prevent my time from happening. But obviously, I need to go back further, it seems.”
“You said it was damaged?”
“The chronal emitter, it’s powered by tachyons,” said Chronos. “That was damaged. Vanguard was supposed to help me steal a tachyon generator from Cerberus, but they knew we were coming. And then not long after we returned back to the Icarus, Cerberus came after us.”
“Yes, I’d heard about the assault on Proximo.” The Khagan rubbed his chin. “So that explains what you were after. And you believe if you can go back far enough, then you can prevent the Kotharian invasion from happening?”
“Or at least stop it before it goes too far. But only if I can repair the chronal emitter. And to do that, I need a tachyon generator.” Chronos examined the helmet. He thought over what the Khagan told him, and something came to mind. “This weapon Cerberus is developing…do you think the tachyon generator might have something to do with it?”
“It’s quite possible,” said the Khagan. “But this generator is just one small part of the puzzle. Just because you have that won’t guarantee you succeed in your task.”
Chronos sighed. “If yo
u won’t help me, then can I leave? I have to get back to Vanguard, find out what happened to Talon and Ink.”
The Khagan held up a hand. “Not so fast, my friend. I didn’t say I won’t help you. What I propose instead is that we help each other.”
Chronos leaned forward. “I’m listening.”
CHAPTER 4
Ink was roused from her sleep by the shouts of the guards. One of them stood in the cell, while another two were in the corridor just past the deactivated forcefield. Ink pulled herself to a sitting position in the top bunk, careful to avoid the ceiling not far from her head.
“Come on, you’ve got an appointment,” said the guard.
“What appointment? What are you talking about?” asked Ink.
“Just move before I have to get violent.”
Ink sighed and climbed down from the top bunk. Talon still lay on her cot, eyes wide open. It looked as if she hadn’t slept all night. Ink reached a hand for her.
“I said move!” barked the guard.
“You want her to come quietly? Then give me a second,” said Ink.
The guard grunted something about ten seconds and folded his arms. Ink glanced at the guards outside the cell and saw a few of them had their hands hovering close to the shock-batons strapped to their thighs.
“Come on, Vic. Let’s see what this is all about,” said Ink.
Talon took Ink’s hand and slowly stood. She stared blankly forward, not acknowledging any of the guards. Ink placed an arm around the teenage girl’s shoulders, the two walking side-by-side into the corridor. The guards parted to allow them some room. The lead guard exited the cell and walked in front of the two women.
“Follow me. And don’t try anything funny.”
He pivoted and strode down the corridor. The other guards walked behind them, urging Ink and Talon to move faster. Ink’s eyes drifted from left to right, looking at the blank walls they passed. Each wall panel had a control device by its side and she knew these were all occupied cells as well. She wondered who the people inside were. Specials, like her? Human sympathizers? Children whose abilities had yet to manifest? She’d rescued all those on her missions with Vanguard, but she’d never been in one of these camps. Ink couldn’t even imagine what Talon must be going through.
They were escorted down to the lower levels, taking an elevator to the sub-basement. It was their third day and this was the first time they’d been let out of their cell or even seen a guard.
The elevator arrived and the doors parted. Down another corridor to a closed door at the end. It slid open and standing there was a man with pale skin and a scar-lined face. He had a thin beard along his jaw and a bald head, his one, good eye fixed on the two subjects. Bony hands moved from behind his back and he rubbed them together, a sadistic smile spreading across his face.
“Ahh good, the new subjects.” He turned and gestured with a sweep of his arm. “Bring them in, make them comfortable.”
“You heard the doctor,” said the lead guard. He walked past the strange man and pointed to two open pods of sorts. They were just big enough to hold a single human, standing upright near the back of the room.
“You’re outta your mind if you think we’re getting in those things,” said Ink.
A guard behind her drew his shock-baton and slammed the electrified end against her side. Ink’s body spasmed, her teeth gritted and grunts escaping her mouth. She tossed an angry glare to the guard.
“Oh, I’m so gonna kill you.”
The guard shocked her again, completely unfazed by her comment. The lead guard was an unlikely rescuer, forcefully pulling Ink away from the shock-baton and shoving her towards the pod. He grabbed her shoulders and forced her into it, turning her around so she faced outward. As soon as she was inside, a clear forcefield sealed the device. Ink pounded against the invisible barrier, but it was useless.
Talon moved quietly, not resisting as the guard placed her into her pod. The forcefield lowered, sealing her inside. Ink looked at her face, but Talon still seemed completely dead to the world outside her mind.
“You may leave us,” said the doctor. The guards gave a Kotharian salute, slamming their closed fists to their left breasts before departing.
The doctor approached the two pods, moving his hands behind his back. He studied them both carefully, a glint of curiosity in his remaining eye. He turned from them and walked to a console, entering in some commands. As his eye was fixed on the monitor, he spoke.
“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, have we?” he asked.
“No, but I know who you are,” said Ink. “Russian accent, freakish appearance, you’re the Cold War Frankenstein.”
He scoffed. “Such a dreadful moniker, but yes, I am Erik Azarov. And the two of you are members of Vanguard.”
Azarov turned from the console and a holographic projection of DNA strands appeared in the center of the room. Azarov circled around it, studying the projections. He glanced at the two prisoners.
“Do you know what this is?”
Ink shrugged. “A really crappy lava lamp?”
“I see sarcasm is apparently still a prerequisite for your team.” Azarov looked at the projections. “What you are looking at are the results of your genetic scans. It’s really quite fascinating. These diagrams tell me everything I need to know about your unique abilities.”
Azarov stepped up to Talon’s pod and looked at her, but she didn’t acknowledge him. He spoke anyway. “Take Ms. Asano here. I’ve encountered your parents many times over the years, and it seems that you have taken after them. But the question remains—is your shape-shifting as limited as your father’s? Can you only take on one, additional form? Or are you your mother’s daughter, capable of so much more than that? It remains to be seen, I suppose. Not even your scans really answer that question.”
He moved from Talon to Ink, looking her in the eyes. Unlike Talon, Ink stared right back at him. If not for the forcefield, she would spit right in his face. Azarov smirked as he looked down at her, eyeing the tattoos lining her arms.
“And you, Ms. Davis. Your abilities are extremely fascinating, and quite unique. The power to bring that ink on your body to life. If only you knew what you were truly capable of.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“The tattoos, they give you an image to focus on. But your powers are so much more than simply breathing life into ink. A pity your imagination is so…limited.”
“Shift and Sharkskin were right about you—you are a nutcase.”
“Visionaries are often ridiculed by the ignorant masses.”
“And traitors are executed,” said Ink.
“Traitor? Really? And just who is it I have betrayed?”
“Try humanity.”
“Hah!” Azarov’s quick laugh echoed in the laboratory. “My dear, claiming I have betrayed humanity implies I am a part of humanity. But nothing could be further from the truth. You see, I haven’t been a man for a very long time. I shed my humanity as a snake sheds its skin long ago.”
“Couldn’t think of a better analogy,” said Ink.
Azarov continued without response to her interruption. “I am beyond humanity. Beyond specials. Beyond your…simplistic concepts of good and evil.”
Ink scoffed. “So what, you think you’re some kind of god?”
“I don’t go in for such primitive concepts. I am simply a seeker of knowledge, trying to discover the full potential of humanity. The Kotharians are intrigued by your species’ reaction to the Chaknaar. You see, it affects all of them equally, grants them the ability to manipulate psychic energy. But humans are different. Only some develop abilities and those abilities are quite varied. They want to know what it is that makes you so different. They want to replicate that quality within their own DNA.”
“You saying they want to be like us?”
“No, they wish to be better than you, better than themselves,” said Azarov.
“And you want to help them.”
“Hardly. I care not for the desires of an alien species. All I want is to conduct my research and learn as much as I can. If the goals of the Kotharians and I happen to coincide, then so be it. I will happily provide them with the fruits of my labor in exchange for their continued support of my research.”
“What’s with these pods? You gonna put us into hyper-sleep or something?”
“Not quite.”
Azarov walked through the projection and stopped at the console. His fingers danced quickly across the keys and Ink heard a light hissing sound. The air smelled funny and her limbs grew lethargic. Ink tried banging on the forcefield, but to no effect. She looked at Talon and saw her eyelids had already fallen. Azarov approached the pod and stared at Ink.
“There is still information we can extract from you,” he said. “First, we’ll take what I need. And then, I shall ask the questions Cerberus wants the answers to. Starting with your mysterious new friend.”
CHAPTER 5
Koji looked up as he heard grumbles coming from Alex Rodriguez. The Vanguardian called Cache lay in the infirmary bed and had been unconscious ever since their assault on Proximo. Only now was he starting to wake and Koji rose from his seat, approaching the bed and looking down at him.
“It’s about damn time,” he said. “Thought you were gonna sit on your ass and leave the hard work up to the rest of us.”
“Uhh, what hit me?” asked Alex as he tried to sit up in bed. He looked down at his bare torso and all the wires connecting him to IVs and machines. “And what the hell is all this crap?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked Koji.
“Lucent. I absorbed his power, but…” Alex paused and shook his head. “I dunno, man. I never felt anything like that before. That was just unreal. His power, it’s like it was burning me from the inside-out. I tried to get rid of it as fast as I could.”
“Doc said you burned yourself out, your body shut down to protect you.”
“That’s a first.” Alex rubbed his eyes. “Anyway, how’d we do? Get what we were after?”
Vanguard: Season Four: A Superhero Adventure Page 7
