Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure

by Percival Constantine

  “Warning me, huh?” asked Anita. “What are you gonna do about it?”

  “This.” Dominic threw his hand forward and a stream of ebon energy erupted from his palm, just as it had when he battled Zenith during his recruitment. Except this didn’t seem concussive at all. When the energy faded, Anita was on her knees, her arms wrapped around her torso and her face overcome with sorrow.

  “Anita…?” asked Dominic. “You okay?”

  The others came running from the booth, with McCabe going to her side. He put his arm around her and helped her to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  “I-I don’t know…” she said, still hugging herself. “I just…when that blast hit me, I felt…cold.”

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Erin.

  “Or maybe…” began Koji, patting Dominic on the back. “A Wraith.”

  ***

  McCabe peered through the microscope and scribbled in his notebook based on what he saw. He looked up from the scope and put his glasses back on, then turned to the computer. The microscope recorded what he saw and he played it back, watching as what was in the blood sample reacted, changing.

  There was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

  Erin entered the lab, still in her human form and wearing sweat pants and a tank top. “You wanted to see me, Doctor?”

  “Yes, yes, come in.” McCabe stood and brought a second chair over next to his, then sat back in front of the computer. Erin accepted the chair he brought and McCabe pointed at the screen. “Do you know what this is, Erin?”

  She looked at the monitor. They were multi-colored blobs, constantly changing their shape and color. Erin shook her head and looked at McCabe. “No, what is it?”

  “Your blood,” said McCabe. “I’ve been studying your case and I’ve noticed something very interesting. Beyond just your outward appearance, your ability has given you a completely malleable molecular structure.”

  “What’s that mean?” asked Erin.

  “It means that through practice, you can find ways to do more with your powers than just look like other people,” said McCabe. “But I think it works better if you are in your natural state.”

  Erin slid the chair back a little. McCabe offered a sympathetic smile. “You can’t hide who you are. All of us here, we’re working together. And we need everyone to try their best.”

  “Yeah, but everyone else looks normal when they’re not using their powers,” said Erin. “But me, I look like…”

  She paused and her features shifted, changing into her default form of an almost-featureless pale green figure. Hair retreated into her pores, as she looked down at her hands.

  McCabe patted her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with how you look, Erin. Around here, you can feel free to be yourself.”

  She gave a tiny smile. “So this other stuff you think I can do…what kind of stuff?”

  “Well…” said McCabe, looking around the lab. There was an empty Coke can on the desk. “Ah, let’s try something. Stay here.” McCabe picked up the can and walked to the other side of the room. He placed the can on a table and returned to Erin’s side. McCabe pointed across the room. “I want you to reach out and get me that can.”

  Erin gave him a look of disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

  McCabe grinned. “You’re the one with the malleable molecular structure.”

  “I don’t even know what you just said.”

  “Just humor an old man, okay?”

  Erin huffed. “Okay.” She held out her arm, stretching out her fingers. Erin groaned a little as she reached for the can and then relaxed her arm and faced McCabe. “Happy?”

  McCabe sighed. “Why don’t you try it again? And this time, don’t act like it’s impossible, just imagine yourself reaching out for the can and taking it.”

  She shook her head incredulously. “You’re losing it, Doc.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “How am I supposed to reach for the can if I can’t see it?”

  “Well, fumble around for it. I think you’re subconsciously limiting yourself. Just close your eyes, reach out for the can, and imagine picking it up.”

  Erin sighed again, but nodded. The almond-shaped, pale yellow eyes closed and she reached out her hand. She pictured the can across the room on the table. And she pictured herself reaching for it from across the room. Erin imagined her arm elongating, stretching out over the distance. She pictured her fingers wrapping around the can. Then, she gasped.

  “Oh god…” she said. “I can feel it!”

  Erin opened her eyes and the instant she did, her arm snapped back to normal. She stood and pouted. “Ugh!”

  McCabe stood with her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “No, no, that was great. You just did something incredible, Erin! You proved that shapeshifting goes beyond just mere appearance.”

  “Shift,” she said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Y’know, how Koji said we should all have code-names or whatever?” Erin smiled. “Well, I think I want mine to be Shift.”

  ***

  Jim entered the training room’s control booth and found Thorne and Zenith waiting for him, with Thorne sitting at the control console. Instead of his usual clothes, Jim was decked out in a special suit that consisted of red body armor from his neck down. There was some headgear as well, but it only covered part of his head, with a yellow, plastic lens over his right eye.

  “Not bad,” said Thorne with a smile. “How’s it feel?”

  “Surprisingly not as uncomfortable as I thought,” said Jim. “Still a little unclear on the whole thing.”

  “The suit is a lightweight form of body armor, designed to enhance your natural strength and speed to some extent,” said Zenith. “I’d been developing it over the past few years as a hobby.”

  “And this?” Jim tapped the eyepiece.

  “Targeting and built-in sensors,” said Zenith.

  “If you’re going to be leading a team of specials, you’d better be able to keep up,” said Thorne.

  “Wait, I’m sorry, what?” asked Jim. “Did you just say lead? I thought you wanted me to come on as an advisor, or maybe help out with some sort of stealth training. But you want me leading these guys?”

  Thorne stood and stepped closer. “I need someone with training out there, Jim. Someone who responds to my orders. Someone I know I can trust.”

  “What about Zenith? He’s far more capable than me,” said Jim.

  “I cannot be trusted,” said Zenith.

  “See, he’s perfectly capable of—wait what?” Jim looked at the robot. “What do you mean you can’t be trusted?”

  “I assist the government, but there are many secrets I will not reveal to them, and I’ve made it quite clear I don’t want to be used as an instrument of war,” said Zenith. “Moreover, I lack humanity. This team needs someone who still knows what it is like to be powerless.”

  “Hey now, powerless is a bit harsh—”

  “He’s right,” said Thorne. “Listen Ellis, you’re a good soldier. You know what you’re doing out there, you’ve got the training and the skills I’m looking for in a field leader. You’re the best man for this job.”

  Jim sighed. “Okay, in that case I’ll need some weapons, right? I mean you wouldn’t have given me this target-thing if you didn’t also plan on giving me some guns.”

  Thorne turned to Zenith. “Show the man his early Christmas present.”

  Zenith nodded and reached under the console for a large case. He opened it for Jim, holding it out for him. Jim looked inside and there were two oddly-shaped handguns. A model he had never seen in all his years serving.

  “What are these?” he asked.

  “Try ‘em out,” said Thorne.

  Jim reached for one of the guns and found it was surprisingly light. Once he gripped it in his hand, sensor lights on the side turned from red to green.

  “The guns are keyed to the suit’s gloves. Any attempt to fire them by someone
not wearing your suit will result in an electric shock,” said Zenith.

  Jim held the weapon in front of his face, turning it to examine the gun from all angles. “Where do I load the ammo?”

  “You don’t,” said Thorne.

  “Then what?” asked Jim, looking up from his new toy. “Am I supposed to throw it at the bad guys?”

  “It’s a particle beam weapon,” said Zenith. “Powered by rechargeable battery packs. Two settings, stun and lethal. As one may surmise, the stun setting uses significantly less energy than lethal.”

  Jim looked at the holster affixed to each thigh. He slid the gun in and realized it was a perfect fit, then did the same for the other gun.

  “Perhaps we should consult Koji on your code-name,” said Zenith. “Or if I may suggest Deadeye?”

  Jim shook his head. “I don’t think having ‘dead’ in my name will go over well. What do you think of Gunsmith?”

  CHAPTER 2

  One Month Later

  Callum King sat on the edge of his bed, with dirty clothes strewn all over the one-room apartment. In his right hand he held a picture that portrayed him in a tuxedo next to a raven-haired woman in a wedding dress. His left hand clutched a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Light sobs wracked his body, his vision blurred by tears. He reached a hand towards his eyes, pushing up his glasses as he wiped the tears, then followed by taking a long drink from the bottle.

  He’d been out of regular work for over a year, growing increasingly frustrated. And his wife had left him as a result. Now he was living in this shoebox of an apartment. Callum crumpled the photograph and threw it into the corner. He raised the bottle to his mouth again, tilting his head back until the bottle was completely upside-down, the whiskey burning a path down his throat. When the bottle was empty, he loosened his grip and let it fall into a pile of shirts and boxers.

  Callum stood and walked over to the dresser. He thought something must be wrong with the whiskey, because he didn’t feel like he’d just finished an entire bottle. But it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Without Lily, he didn’t have the strength to put up with the terrible job market anymore.

  He opened his sock drawer and pulled out a small box. Setting it on top, he raised the lid, revealing a small revolver with a few bullets. Callum opened the chamber and loaded each of the rounds, then sat back down on the bed. He took a deep breath—what he hoped was his last—and put the barrel in his mouth, pulling the trigger.

  There was a loud blam and the smell of smoke lingered in the air.

  But Callum wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even injured. And no one was more surprised by that fact than he. There was also something rattling in his mouth, like something stuck. He worked his jaw around and knocked loose whatever was in there and spat it into his hand.

  The bullet fell into his palm, completely flattened.

  Callum held the crushed piece of metal between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up and turning it around slowly. As he stared at the mangled bullet, he noticed something strange—it was starting to get hot. He could feel the temperature of it rising, but the reason behind it eluded him, and he felt absolutely no pain. But then he saw his hand. Or more accurately, saw it glowing like a hot coal.

  He dropped the bullet and stood, shaking his head. He was seeing things. Too much whiskey. Yeah, that was it. Must be a lot more drunk than he realized if he’d begun hallucinating. Could alcohol even cause hallucinations?

  Callum walked slowly to the bathroom. He was about to turn the faucet with his left hand, the same one he’d seen glowing, but decided against it and used the right. He placed both hands under the running water and once the liquid hit, steam erupted forth, fogging his glasses. Callum pulled back and grabbed the glasses from his face, tossing them to the ground. They hit the toilet bowl and fell in the water, crumpled.

  He reached out his hand and carefully wiped the fog from the mirror. Callum stared into his own face, and he could feel anger boiling up inside him. Without realizing what he was doing, he had his hand balled into a fist, and next thing he knew, his fist went through the mirror and into the medicine cabinet. Glass shards fell across the sink and Callum gingerly brought his hand back to his face.

  Not a scratch.

  It wasn’t a hallucination, he was beginning to realize that now. What he was dealing with was something a whole lot more. Something inside him had changed.

  He went back into his room and sat on the bed. What was happening to him? Callum turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels. One of the stations was showing The Sentinels, a movie about superheroes. As he watched the characters on the screen, he began to come to a realization.

  He was now one of them.

  When she left, Lily called him a loser. Well, could a loser do the things he was now capable of?

  He’d show her. He’d show her she was wrong to leave him. He’d show his former boss who laid him off at the firm. He’d show his father, who told him he’d never amount to anything. He’d show that stupid shrink who told him he had dependency issues. Yes, that’s it, he’d show them all.

  And they’d all realize how wrong they were, they’d beg him to let them back into his life. He would get Lily back, one way or another. After all, how could she resist him after she saw what he could do?

  Callum knew what he had to do. He had to become like the heroes in The Sentinels. Then Lily would come running back. She wouldn’t resist him. There was no way that little weasel she was with now could ever measure up to him. She couldn’t resist a hero. How could anyone?

  It was the perfect plan. Now all he needed was to put it into action.

  ***

  Erin entered the monitor room, clad in a University of Wisconsin hooded sweatshirt. She found it difficult to sleep and decided to explore Atlas. Most of the base was dark, aside from dim emergency lights illuminating the corridors, stairwells, and elevator. But that was all a far cry from the monitor room, with the glow of the various screens bathing the room in their radiance. Zenith stood in the center of the monitor room, just taking in the images that flashed over the screens. There were a dozen of them or so. For Erin, the sound from all the different newscasts just faded into white noise.

  “Good evening, Ms. Hastings,” said the robot, without even looking at her. “I take it you’ve had some difficulty sleeping?”

  Erin was surprised that he knew it was her before he even saw her. She instinctively tugged her hood over her bald, pale green head. Even when faced with something that didn’t care about human appearances, she still wanted to hide what these powers had turned her into.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m monitoring news feeds from around the world. Colonel Thorne believes that, with all the specials emerging, some may not choose to hide their powers. Or some may not be able to control them. If we can locate potential problems and intervene before they become a crisis, we have the potential to save many lives.”

  Erin walked deeper into the monitor room, approaching the screens. The images on them constantly changed from one news channel to another, broadcast in a variety of different languages. She could barely get a glimpse of them, and she had no idea how Zenith was able to monitor so many in such a short amount of time and still comprehend all the necessary information from them.

  “So that’s why you were built?” she asked, turning to face him. “To be Big Brother for all of us?”

  Zenith directed his watchful gaze from the screens to look at Erin. The LED lights that served as his eyes showed no emotion, and his head was void of any other facial features. “I apologize, Ms. Hastings. Have I offended you in some way?”

  “No, it’s not that, it’s just—” Erin huffed, crossing her arms and looking away. “I guess I’m just a little…uncomfortable with the idea of spying on people.”

  “As am I,” said Zenith. “Which is why I am not spying, but rather focusing on the events. I am not monitoring phone calls or emails, but rather media reports.”

&nbs
p; “And you’re sure that will work?”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not,” said Zenith. “It is almost three in the morning. Why are you awake?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” Erin rubbed her arms through the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she looked around the monitor room. “This whole place, it just feels so…so surreal. I mean until recently, the biggest thing I had to worry about was failing biology. But now, I’m living in an underground missile silo with a bunch of people who have superpowers and a robot.”

  “Personally, I prefer the term Artificial American.”

  Erin looked at him with surprise. “Oh, really? Is…is that what you call yourself?”

  “No, I was making a joke.”

  Erin’s stare of disbelief lingered on him for a moment, unsure of whether or not it was the truth or sarcasm, but then she felt her lips twisting into a smirk.

  “Your discomfort is understandable, Ms. Hastings.”

  “Call me Erin. Every time you say, ‘Ms. Hastings,’ I keep thinking my mom is standing behind me.”

  “As you wish, Erin.” Zenith turned his focus back to the monitors.

  “How can you do that?” she asked. “Pay attention to all that information flying around?”

  “I am capable of processing data on a level far above that of even the most sophisticated computer.”

  “But…how?”

  “Through the constant upgrades I have installed. I am always trying to improve my systems.” Zenith went quiet after that and Erin followed suit. But it was only a few moments before he chose to break the silence. “Forgive me for asking, but from what I understand of your unique physiology, your body is quite immune to changes in temperature.”

  “Huh?” she asked, and in her head, she took apart the vocabulary he used to try and decipher his meaning. “Oh! You mean how I don’t really get cold?”

  Zenith nodded. “Precisely. So why are you wearing that sweatshirt?”

  “Might feel a bit stupid to someone like you, but…” Her voice trailed off.

  “You do not like your appearance?”

  Erin shook her head. “I know you probably think it’s some shallow thing, but it’s not that I hate how I look. It’s more…I just don’t recognize this.” She motioned to her face. “When I look in the mirror, I don’t see me, I see a stranger.” Her facial features shifted, her skin tone became the shade of beige she knew, and blond hair emerged from her head. “This is who I am, but if I want to look like me, I have to concentrate. And if I lose my focus…” She shifted again, reverting to the pale green skin and the hair receded into her skull. “I become this.”