“And that is why you have trouble sleeping.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Erin shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe.”
Zenith looked at the screens and his eyes flashed quickly. Every monitor shut off at once, and the lights in the room came on. He turned his entire body to face Erin. “You may find this difficult to believe, but I can understand what you are going through. My earliest memory was waking in this body, but when that happened, I felt a sense of discomfort.”
Erin widened her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Zenith looked down at his metallic hand, flexing the digits one by one, tiny servos whirring as he did. “I cannot truly explain it, but I have the sense that I had an existence prior to this one.”
Erin wrapped her arms around her body. “So what did you do about it?”
Zenith lowered his hand and looked up at her. If he possessed anything resembling a mouth, Erin got the sense he would have been smiling at her. “I learned to adapt to the new circumstances. I found a new path for myself.”
“So now it’s my turn to do the same.”
“And mine as well. We must now both learn to adapt.”
She grinned a little. “Yeah, guess so.”
***
The navy-blue and white suit clung tightly to his body. Callum had to max out his last credit card to pay for it, but this would be worth it. Soon, people would be banging down his door with wheelbarrows full of cash for the rights to his story.
He stepped out onto the roof of his building, looking out over the Chicago skyline. Night had fallen and soon, he’d find something to do with his powers. Crime was never far away in this city, and all he had to do was wait. The wind caught the white cape, billowing it slightly behind him.
Sirens cut through the sounds of traffic and Callum smiled. This was it. He stepped up to the ledge of the roof. As he looked down the six stories to the traffic below, he started to have second thoughts. He’d spent the two weeks waiting for the costume practicing with his abilities, trying to hone them. He didn’t have much room to practice his flying in the small apartment, but he did manage to lift himself off the ground. It was pretty simple, but now he found himself worried that it wouldn’t carry him at this height.
Callum took a deep breath and crouched. He pushed his weight down on his legs, and then sprang up, the powerful muscles shooting him into the sky. As he reached the apex of the jump and began his descent, he shut his eyes, whispering to himself: “Please work…please work…please work…”
He felt himself stop and he cautiously opened just a single eye. He was far above his building, but the ground wasn’t growing any closer. He just hung there, as if suspended by invisible wires.
Callum started to laugh and pushed off, flying through the sky, the air blowing his hair back. He concentrated on the sound of the sirens and flew towards them. High over the street, he saw a few squad cars racing through the city, other vehicles pulling over to let them pass. Callum allowed them to go faster than him and he followed from above, being careful to notice the turns they made.
As they approached the destination, Callum could hear the sounds of gunfire growing closer. The cars pulled to a stop in front of a dilapidated tenement building, where a few others were waiting. Police barricades were set up, and officers were standing behind their cars for cover. From inside the tenement, there was the occasional muzzle-flash through the windows, and the cops ducked to avoid the bullets.
He descended, landing in an open area between the makeshift barricade formed by the squad cars and the cracked concrete walkway leading up to the building. Several windows were barred and the building had definitely seen better days.
“What the hell are you doing, you freak?” screamed one of the officers.
Callum ignored him, instead focusing on the mission. The muzzle of an assault rifle came from between the bars on one window and the triggerman opened fire. Callum instinctively raised his hands in defense and looked away, but the bullets simply flattened against his skin—his costume was another story, however.
He jumped for the window and caught hold of the bars. Gripping them in both hands, he placed his feet on the wall for leverage and pulled. They gave way, cracking through wood and brick as they did. He tossed the bars onto the brown grass, taking much of the window with it.
Inside the small apartment, he saw the targets. A few young men dressed in gang colors. They couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen, and they looked liable to wet themselves at the sight of this man powerful enough to tear through their home.
The apartment itself was nothing to scream about—broken, stained furniture, dirty walls, drug paraphernalia and empty bottles and cans as well as crumbled bags from fast food restaurants. Plus weapons and some stacks of money.
The boys were still staring at him, their dark eyes large with fear. One of them finally got the courage to speak up, although even that amount of courage proved to be at a low level.
“Wh-wh-what the hell are you, m-man?”
Callum smirked and folded his arms across his chest. “What does it look like, punk?”
“Hell with this fool an’ his damn tights!” screamed the second. He raised the rifle and opened fire. Callum remained stoic this time and just stood as the bullets once more flattened against him.
He calmly stepped towards the youths and the gunman’s friends joined the firefight. But Callum continued to walk slowly up to them and he reached out and gripped the barrel of the closest gun, then bent it downwards.
Callum lunged for the second gun, ripping it from the boy’s hands and snapping it in two over his knee. The third gunman pulled his trigger again, but only the sound of clicks emerged. He tossed the weapon at Callum and broke into a run for the front door, his friends following. With a sigh, Callum turned to the hole he made and walked towards it. Looking down, he saw the three young men running for the police barricade, their hands raised high in the air.
“DON’T SHOOT, JUST KEEP THAT FREAK AWAY FROM ME!”
The officers stared at the hole in the wall, still a bit in shock from the way this mysterious costumed stranger tore it free. He stepped out from the hole and stood on nothing but air, then his body slowly lowered down to the street where he had the opportunity to meet with the officers and the young men he’d just disarmed.
Callum jerked his thumb up, pointing at the hole. “There’s a lot up in that room you boys might find interesting.”
A few officers quickly cuffed the gang members, while others ran into the building. One of them just stared at Callum’s face.
“Who are you? What are you?”
Callum just smiled. “Call me Exemplar. And I’m here to help.”
With that, he jumped into the air, soaring off into the night sky. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, Callum King was filled with purpose.
CHAPTER 3
The large monitor screens in Atlas’ ready room held images of a man clad in blue and white with a matching cape flying. Other monitors contained various other images of him—stopping crimes, averting disasters, and posing for the cameras. The sounds of the jumbled newscasts all mixed together until there was almost no discerning between them.
“Zenith, mute all audio,” said Thorne.
The robot nodded and the sound was abruptly cut. Thorne stared up at the monitors before turning to his team, all of them seated around the long table. Some, like Anita and Jim, were alert and ready, even dressed for the day. But the younger members Erin and Koji looked positively sleep-deprived, practically guzzling their coffee. Dominic was a bit groggy himself, but hid it well, and McCabe was busy looking back and forth between the screens and the notes he’d been scribbling.
“This,” Thorne gestured to the monitors, “is Exemplar. He made his presence known a few weeks ago in one of the more dangerous parts of Chicago. Since then, he’s been hopping all around the county, playing hero.”
“So what’s the problem?” asked Domini
c. “Afraid he’s horning in on what should be our territory?”
“More like afraid of his carelessness,” said Thorne. “You’ve all been trained, but Exemplar here has racked up quite the bill in the past week in property damage alone. Lawyers from some of the criminals he’s brought in have already begun petitioning the court for dismissal due to unlawful arrest. And things like this worry me. Zenith, play the marked file.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
The image on the center monitor suddenly changed. Exemplar, in costume, sat on a leather couch across from a popular Chicago talk-show host. The host smiled into the camera and said, “So what made you this way?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure,” said Exemplar. “All I know is I was blessed with this great power and I plan on using it to make a difference in this world.” He flashed a smile at the camera and Thorne groaned.
“That’s enough.” He faced the team. “That’s just one of many interviews Exemplar has lined up. So what does this tell you about him?”
“He likes the attention,” said Jim. “Might even be something of a narcissist.”
Thorne nodded as he pointed at him. “Exactly. A man with this level of power who has something he feels he needs to prove. That can be a dangerous mix.”
“And it does seem like he has quite a lot of power,” said McCabe. “From viewing the footage, I can reasonably assume he possesses superhuman strength and invulnerability, with possibly more powers.”
Anita rose from her seat. “Look, I think it bears mentioning that this guy doesn’t seem to have done anything intentionally wrong. He might be a bit reckless, but isn’t part of our job to help others like us? It seems like he’s just trying to make a difference, so maybe we should try talking to him instead of assuming guilt based on some TV reporting. I mean, do we know anything about him beyond what we’ve just seen?”
“I am working on that at the moment,” said Zenith. “Using his appearances to date, I am running his image through facial recognition software and the database of the Illinois Secretary of State. However, as there are close to thirteen million people in the state of Illinois, and not all of them possess a driver’s license or photo identification, it may take some time to find a proper match.”
“Good, then how about we take a wait-and-see attitude until we know more?” asked Anita.
Thorne sighed. “I appreciate your point of view on this, but our mandate is to deal with potential threats posed by specials.”
“By the logic you’re using, that applies to pretty much this entire team,” said Anita.
“She’s got a point, Colonel,” said Koji. “We gonna start nabbing specials whenever they try to help out? Besides, who’s to stop someone from doing the same to us? Way I understand it, nobody’s supposed to know about our mandate or who gave it.”
“Yeah, but most specials aren’t hamming it up for the camera,” said Dominic. “Hate to say it, but I’m with Thorne on this. The guy’s fishy—err, no offense.”
Koji scoffed and smirked.
“Still, we should give him a chance,” said Erin. “What if we tried finding him and then just told him to be careful?”
“Because guys like that aren’t really known for their listening skills,” said Dominic. “Trust me, I know the type—worked with them, even. And they’re always wild cards.”
“He’s right,” said Jim with a nod. “Someone who seeks out attention like this is—”
“Can I remind everyone—again—that we’re talking about this guy when we don’t really know anything about him?” asked Anita.
“Sizing someone up is a big part of what I do, Anita,” said Jim.
“This isn’t the CIA. All I’m saying is we need to give him a chance.”
“Are you certain that a cadre of specials coming down on his position wouldn’t encourage a conflict?” asked Zenith. “Such a move might be considered a hostile one.”
“Then let me go alone,” said Anita. “Seems he and I have pretty similar abilities anyway. Maybe I can talk to him, help him keep things in perspective. What could it hurt?”
Thorne exhaled through his nose and then looked back up at the screen. If this operation was going to succeed, he knew he would have to cede some ground when necessary. They weren’t soldiers—not all of them, anyway. And without some degree of autonomy, Vanguard could fall apart very quickly. Thorne knew he had to lead this unit differently from the way he’d led in the past.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Go to Chicago, Anita. See if you can find him and just try talking to him. Make sure he knows about the risks of what he’s doing, but don’t get yourself in too deep. And don’t reveal too much about either yourself or this operation.”
Anita nodded. “Thank you, Colonel. You won’t regret this.”
Thorne faced the group. “But I have a condition: Anita will approach alone, but I want the rest of the team suited up and standing by in the Icarus in case things go south. Anita, you’re to remain in constant contact with Zenith at all times, is that understood?”
She nodded again. “That sounds fair.”
“Good, then all of you, get suited up and meet in the hangar. You’ve got work to do.”
***
The Icarus was developed as a top secret project by the Air Force, a supersonic jet capable of ferrying multiple passengers across long distances in a short amount of time. Complete with stealth and VTOL capabilities, the Icarus was a pet project of Zenith’s, one of many inventions he worked on for the government. Zenith now sat at the controls, flying it over the Chicago skyline. With the autopilot engaged, Zenith turned his seat and rose, walking away from the controls and into the cabin.
A partition stood before the entrance to the cockpit and Zenith walked around this. On the other side of the partition was a large monitor, and Jim wore his crimson armor, standing beside it. Next to him was Anita, clad in a red and white costume with matching cape. The screen displayed a topographic map of the area below. Facing the screen were five rows of beige-colored chairs, two on each side of the aisle that ran down the cabin. Dominic, Erin, and Koji all sat in the front row, also clad in their uniforms. For Dominic, it was a dark bodysuit complete with a mask over his lower jaw and strips of leather from the shoulders forming a kind of cape and Koji wore a form-fitting outfit that resembled a wetsuit with blue trim. Erin wore a green bodysuit that matched her natural form.
“We’re over Chicago. Radar picks up a small craft not far from here over Lake Michigan,” said Zenith.
Jim nodded. “Most-likely makes that our target.”
“He’s a person, Jim. Not a target,” said Anita.
“It’s Gunsmith when we’re in the field, Paragon,” he said. “And we’ll see if your ‘not a target’ thing bears true.”
“Just stay out of sight,” said Paragon. “Zenith, open the rear hatch.”
She moved further down, behind another partition separating the cabin from the back of the Icarus. Paragon held onto the guard rail and took a deep breath as the whirring sounds indicated the hatch locks were disengaging. The door opened and she dove out head-first, arms at her side as she shot through the clouds like a missile. Her eyes were shut momentarily, but when she opened them again, they pulsated with a golden glow. Paragon curved upwards and her telekinetic abilities took hold, halting her descent and holding her position.
Paragon flew over the skyscrapers that defined the city of Chicago, moving further out towards Lake Michigan. The summer air was a bit more crisp out here, but she could barely feel it through her suit. And ahead, she could see the man she sought.
Cape fluttering behind him, arms crossed as he stared out over the city, was the man who called himself Exemplar—the first public superhero. Paragon slowed as she approached and when Exemplar saw her, his face bore some surprise.
“You—you can fly, too? Who are you?”
Paragon came to a hovering stop and nodded. “My name’s Paragon. There are actually a lot of us out there. But you’re th
e first to make a public splash like this.”
Exemplar raised his eyebrows. “How many?”
She shrugged. “We’re not quite sure yet. But I’m part of a team. We’ve spent the past month or so training to use our abilities. To help others like us.”
Exemplar grinned at this. “Ah, and you’re looking for someone to lead you, huh? Well, I have to admit, I am flattered, but I think I work better on my own.”
Paragon held up her hand. “No, that’s not why I’m here. We’ve actually already got a leader.”
Exemplar’s smile began to fade and his tone dropped an octave. “So what do you want?”
“To be honest, we have…concerns. About the way you’ve been operating.”
His arms fell to his sides, fists clenching slightly. “You mean the way I’ve been saving lives, stopping criminals?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” said Paragon. “Listen, I think it’s great that you want to help others. I do, too. It’s basically all I’ve ever wanted to do with my life. But…help can sometimes be harmful.”
“Harmful?” There was a forcefulness to his voice. “I’m out there risking my life, stopping crimes, and you—you criticize me from the sidelines?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Paragon. “Who the hell are you to judge me?”
Paragon held up both hands in front of her. “Calm down, Exemplar. I’m not your enemy. I’m just informing you that there have been some…issues. You’ve caused a lot of property damage and many of the criminals you’ve apprehended are trying to get released because they’re claiming their arrests were unlawful.”
Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure Page 8
