Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure

by Percival Constantine

  Thorne approached the screen. “What are we looking at here?” He pointed to one of the markers. “What are these supposed to symbolize?”

  “I’ve been sifting through the data, trying to determine the locations of specials.”

  “‘Specials’?” asked McCabe.

  “Every species needs a name, even a sub-species, and so I felt it was fitting.” Zenith paused and faced the scientist. “Did you have another name in mind, Doctor? Most of this is based on your research, so I believe you have the right to christen them whatever you choose. I apologize if I was too brash.”

  McCabe couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face at the robot’s politeness. “Not at all, specials is as good a name as any.”

  Thorne stroked his mustache as he scanned the various markers. “My god…there are hundreds of them… You’ve found a way to track them?”

  Servos whirred and Zenith’s head shook no. “As Dr. McCabe stated, humanity may have been completely transformed. All of you possess the potential to become specials, so even if I could pinpoint the genetic marker and find a way to track it, it would be like tracking every single person on the planet. Rather, this is based on an algorithm I’ve designed, tracking similarities from a number of sources—news reports, medical records, social media feeds, and so on. These are not necessarily confirmed cases, but rather potential cases. Each one of these has a high probability, greater than fifty percent, of being a special. I believe this is how we will locate the members of our team.”

  “Our team?” asked Thorne, turning around. He placed his hands behind his back, gazing into the tiny, blue lights that served as the robot’s eyes. “I thought you didn’t want to be used as an instrument of war?”

  “If I do not act, I fear others will be used as instruments of war. Perhaps this is the purpose I’ve been searching for all these years.”

  McCabe stepped up to the screen, looking over the various markers. “There are so many, how do we choose?”

  “I’ve already begun work on that front, as a matter of fact,” said Zenith. The globe turned, focusing just on North America. “I felt for practical reasons, finding a team made up of individuals based in the United States would be the simplest course of action. Following that, I began screening for the highest potential candidates, factoring in a number of variables to compile a list.”

  Thorne nodded. “Good. Doctor, I want you to go over Zenith’s list with him, and meanwhile, I have to review candidates for our field leader. We’ll be in touch.”

  Thorne exited the room and Zenith looked at McCabe with his glowing eyes. “Well Doctor, we have several dozen candidates to go over. Where shall we begin?”

  McCabe sighed. “With coffee. I have a feeling it’ll be a long night.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Lieutenant Jim Ellis stepped onto the tarmac from the chopper, its blades still spinning. He kept one hand on his head to prevent his hat from flying off and quickly hustled away from the vehicle. Within moments, the helicopter lifted off again.

  “Hey, wait!” he shouted after it, but to no avail. Jim sighed and turned away, scanning the area amidst the Adirondack Mountains. The only thing around for miles was a hangar, runway, and a small, one-story building. Couldn’t even be classified as a building, more like a garage. He figured that was his only option and he approached the structure. The windows were completely opaque, and the metal door had no handle. There was a light above it, but this was switched off. Jim rapped his knuckles on the door a few times, then waited. After a few minutes, he knocked again, a little harder this time.

  “What is going on?” He backed away from the door and placed his hands on his hips, looking up. It seemed like this was some sort of airfield, but tucked in the middle of nowhere, and seemingly no longer operational.

  Jim returned to the tarmac and followed it to the hangar. He banged on the doors, but still no answer came. Jim huffed in annoyance. “Come on…”

  He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his closely-cropped blond hair. He’d received a summons to appear here and was told it was in regards to a highly-classified operation. As a former Navy SEAL and a member of the CIA’s Special Operations Group, those sorts of orders were as normal for him as an inter-office memo would be for a white collar employee. But what was unordinary was arriving at a clandestine briefing and finding no one there to brief him.

  Jim reached inside the jacket of his dress uniform and pulled out a cell phone. He’d put in a call to his superiors, let them know that someone must have made a mistake. Maybe the meeting was actually tomorrow, or maybe the pilot got the location wrong. He looked at the display and groaned when he saw the “No Service” message at the top of the screen.

  “Great…”

  Jim wandered around the small valley, holding his phone up in the air, trying to see if he could get some sort of signal. Every time a single bar flashed on the screen, it vanished almost as quickly. The most consistent thing he got was a “Searching…” message.

  As he concentrated on finding a signal, Jim didn’t notice a large patch of grass that suddenly rose from beside the tarmac. Underneath that patch was a gun turret that tracked Jim’s movements. It seemed to wait for him, following him carefully. Jim suddenly got a sense of being watched and when he turned and saw the turret, it opened fire.

  Jim leapt to the side, diving towards the small building. He rolled on the ground and sprung up once more, breaking into a sprint. The turret’s rounds followed him, a hail of gunfire narrowly missing his feet. When he was within range, he jumped again, landing behind the construct and pressing his back up against it. He remained there, listening as the bullets pounded into the building, waiting for the turret to run out of ammo.

  After a few more minutes, the gunfire stopped, and all Jim could hear was the sound of the cylinder spinning rapidly, slowing down with each rotation until it came to a stop. Jim edged near the corner, peering around it, and drawing his SIG Sauer P229 handgun as he did so. Slowly, he rose to his feet, keeping his back pressed against the building, and he spotted a shadow on the ground. He raised the gun, and saw the shadow approaching closer. Jim sprang out from his hiding spot and took aim. He found himself facing down the barrel of a Beretta M9, held by a man in a green dress uniform with a silver mustache hanging over his grinning lips.

  “Good morning, Lieutenant.”

  Jim moved instantly, holstering the weapon and snapping to a stiff posture and salute.

  “At ease, soldier.” The superior officer holstered his Beretta and offered his hand. “My name’s Thorne.”

  “Ellis, sir. James Ellis,” he said, shaking Thorne’s hand.

  When the handshake broke, Thorne jerked his thumb at the turret, which had now retreated below ground. “Sorry about the fireworks. We’re testing out some of the security features. And also, I wanted to see if you were as good as your file suggests.”

  “And?”

  Thorne grinned. “You performed as expected, Lieutenant.”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?” asked Jim.

  Thorne chuckled. “Relax, kid. You don’t have to be so formal here. Speak your mind.”

  “I’m a little confused. I was told I was to report here for some classified mission, but what is this place?”

  “Step into my office.” Thorne gestured to the small building and they walked around to the front. Thorne stood in front of the door, looked up at the light, and said, “Colonel Leonard Thorne.” The light switched on and after a moment, a robotic voice said, {Access granted.} The door slid open and Thorne stepped inside with Jim following.

  “Biometric security,” said Thorne. “Voice recognition activates the security check and housed in the lamp is a scanner to verify your identity.”

  Jim glanced around the small structure, seeing nothing more than a table and two chairs with an old radio on the table’s surface. Next to the radio, however, was a manila file and Jim noticed the label on the tab bore his name. “I’m sorry, sir, bu
t what’s the point of having that level of security on a place like this?”

  “We’ll get to that, have a seat.” Thorne sat in one of the chairs and motioned to the empty one.

  Jim carefully sat down, not sure what to make of this entire situation. Everything seemed very strange up to this point and he was starting to wonder if someone at the Agency was playing a practical joke on him.

  “I’m sure by now that you’ve heard the rumors spreading throughout the Internet, of seemingly normal people who can perform supernatural feats.”

  Jim nodded. “Sure, some sort of new Internet hoax. What’s that have to do with me?”

  “It’s not a hoax, Lieutenant,” said Thorne. “The world is quickly being populated by people who can do amazing things. People for whom the laws of physics pose no restriction. Now, I’ve reviewed your file.” He tapped the folder. “In fact, I’ve spent the past few weeks reviewing a lot of files. You’ve got an impressive record—recruited from the SEALs into the SOG. How long have you been with the Agency?”

  “About two years.”

  Thorne took the file and held it open in front of him. “You’ve consistently garnered high marks. You’ve got a keen strategic mind, you excel in hand-to-hand combat, and your marksmanship is off the charts. In fact, one might say you yourself are superhuman.”

  Jim was puzzled. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you saying that…that…” He paused, struggling with the words. “Well…what are you saying?”

  Thorne closed the file. “What I’m saying is that I’ve been tasked to put together a special team. A team with some very specific mission parameters. And what I need is a field commander. Someone who can go toe-to-toe with these specials and come out on top.”

  “And you think that someone…is me?”

  Thorne set the folder back on the table, keeping his fingers on top as he stared at it. “To be honest, I’m not sure. And here’s where the tricky part comes in. I know for something like this, you’d want to know all the details before you can make an informed decision. But unfortunately, I’ve already come close to telling you more than I should. Before I can go into any specifics, I need your commitment.”

  Jim realized he’d been sitting forward in his chair and now he leaned back slightly. He stared at the file on the table and still locked there, he asked, “what can you tell me?”

  “I can tell you that we’re talking pretty deep cover. No one will know what it is you’re doing. Not even your superiors at the CIA. It’s high-risk, but potentially high-reward.”

  Jim fidgeted slightly in his chair. Beyond Thorne’s words, his tone said that this was indeed something extremely important. Whatever this job was, whatever it involved, Jim knew it would be extremely dangerous. But he also knew that his curiosity had now gotten the better of him, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew just what exactly was going on here. And there was only one way to do that.

  “I’m in.”

  Thorne smiled and offered his hand once more. “Welcome to Vanguard. C’mon, let me show you around the base.”

  “But…what base?” asked Jim after shaking Thorne’s hand. “That hangar?”

  “The base isn’t above-ground, Lieutenant.” Thorne stood and faced the wall. “Time to give you the grand tour.”

  The wall lowered, and there was a small elevator. Thorne stepped in and made room for Jim. “What are you waiting for?”

  ***

  Victoria Hastings stood just outside the examination room, fumbling through her purse. Her daughter was inside, but she couldn’t stay there another moment, not before she managed to calm herself. Keys, her wallet, and various cosmetic products rattled around as she dug through the white leather sack. Finally, she heard a familiar noise and sighed in relief, pulling out a small, translucent orange bottle with pills clicking about inside. She struggled with the childproof lid, her hands feeling like they were covered in grease. And then she dropped the bottle.

  “Dammit…” she muttered. Before she could bend down to pick it up, someone else had met her on the ground. A hand with some light wrinkles held the bottle out to her and Victoria looked up into the kind eyes of an older gentleman with a bald head, a thin white beard, and rimless glasses.

  “I think you dropped this,” he said.

  Victoria managed a faint smile. “Thank you.” She accepted the bottle and stood up, still struggling with the top.

  “Allow me.” He extended his hand and Victoria resigned herself, passing it to him. The man removed the top and handed it back to her. Victoria dropped two white pills into her palm and closed the bottle, then returned it back to the abyss that was her purse. She clasped her hand over her mouth, slipping the pills inside, then walked past the man to a water fountain. With a quick drink, the tablets were swallowed.

  “Mrs. Hastings, I presume?” he asked.

  Victoria looked up, brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She stood, wiping the lingering water droplets from her lips. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  “No, not yet. Dr. Howard McCabe.” He offered his hand and Victoria shook it, while she stared at the plastic badge clipped to his white coat, identifying him simply as VISITOR.

  “You don’t work here?” she asked.

  “No, but I’m a specialist in the field of genetics. Your daughter’s case was brought to my attention and—”

  Victoria backed away slightly, clutching a hand to her chest. “What do you mean it was brought to your attention? What do you want with my daughter?”

  “Oh no, it’s nothing to be worried about,” said McCabe. “Mrs. Hastings, I’m only here to help your daughter. I understand you made an appointment because…there’s been a change?”

  Victoria bit her lower lip and looked away at some of the other staff milling around. Nobody paid them any attention.

  “I can’t help your daughter unless you talk to me.”

  She dropped her head and then slowly nodded. “Yes…she’s…things are different.”

  “May I speak to her?”

  Victoria gestured to the room. “I’m guessing you’ve read her file?”

  “I did. She’s been changing her appearance? Transforming into people she sees on television, photographs, what have you?”

  Victoria nodded. “At first it was involuntary, like a spasm. Once she realized it had happened, she’d return to normal. But then yesterday…something changed. She turned into something different entirely. Something…well…”

  Victoria opened the door to the exam room. McCabe stepped inside and sitting on the exam table was Erin Hastings, dressed in sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt. Her head hung low and McCabe couldn’t see the girl’s face. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of the hoodie and she stared at the ground.

  “Hi Erin,” said McCabe with a warm smile. “I’m Dr. McCabe. I’ve come to consult on your case.” He offered his hand. Erin remained still, but shifted her body towards her mother, who simply nodded.

  “It’s okay, honey.”

  Erin shifted back towards McCabe. She removed her hand from the pocket and grasped the Doctor’s in her own. It was slim, as one would expect from a sixteen-year-old girl. But what caught McCabe’s attention was the skin color. Erin’s hand was a pale green color and had an odd texture to it. It wasn’t the same as human skin, but something almost…putty-like.

  “Can you lower your hood for me, Erin?” he asked.

  Erin hesitated again, but after a moment she lifted both hands to the black hood and pulled it away from her head, letting it hang loosely around her shoulders. The skin had that same pale green color as the skin on her hands. There was no hair on her head, not even eyebrows. Only two small slits where her nose should be and small holes on the sides of her head for her ears. Her eyes were an almond-shape and they had no pupils, just pale yellow sclera.

  McCabe tried not to stare too much. Instead he simply maintained his smile. “I imagine this must’ve been very tough on you, Erin.”

  “At first
, it was kinda cool,” she said. “I mean, being able to look and sound like anyone I wanted. I’d always change back to myself when I lost my concentration. But then I just started changing into…” She paused and gestured to her face. “This.” Erin sighed and looked into McCabe’s eyes with her own pupil-less ones. It was disconcerting for the scientist, but he made no indication of his discomfort. “Is this because I messed around with it too much? Y’know, like how you’re not supposed to pop a zit or pick at a scab or something?”

  “Well…” McCabe adjusted his glasses. “I can’t be certain until I’ve had the chance to run some tests. But I think it’s pretty safe to say that this is not the case. I’d say this is almost like a…a template form you’ve adopted.”

  Erin shuddered a bit. “Y-you mean this is who I am now?”

  “Do you play sports?”

  Erin furrowed her brow. She turned to her mother, but Victoria’s face also looked mystified. She glanced back at McCabe. “I’m on the swim team…”

  “Okay good, that’s a start,” said McCabe. “When you first jumped in a pool, could you compete in swim meets?”

  “No, of course not,” said Erin. “I had to work my ass off at practice every day.”

  “Erin Marie Hastings!” her mother huffed. “You know better than to use language like that!”

  McCabe tried to stifle a chuckle, recalling his own mother’s similar admonishments. “I think you hit on my point, Erin. It took practice and conditioning to develop your swimming abilities. Your shapeshifting abilities are no different. Just like anything else, it will take time to develop, but in that time, you will become more proficient. Right now, your shapeshifting happens somewhat involuntarily. But with practice, it will be easier to shift at will and to hold that shape.”