Vanguard: Seasons 1-3: A Superhero Adventure

by Percival Constantine

  “Secretary Ramsey, General Callus,” said Azarov, resting his elbows on the chair’s armrests, steepling his fingers. “It is good to speak with you again.”

  “Dr. Azarov, it’s been a long time,” said Ramsey, the Secretary of Defense for the United States.

  “Yes. How are you, General? It seems you are settling into exile quite nicely.”

  Callus grumbled. Since Gunsmith and Zukov exposed his illegal activities, he’d been on the run from Cerberus and the United Nations. “Just get to the point, Azarov. What do you have for us?”

  “We have made some breakthroughs and we’ve stumbled across some interesting new test subjects,” said Azarov. “Including one who appears to be a special of alien origin. But these discoveries have come with some setbacks.”

  “Like what?” asked Ramsey.

  “Vanguard has returned. My new Dreks managed to overwhelm them, but their presence is a cause for concern,” said Azarov. “I believe this may be the work of Zukov.”

  “Sonnuva bitch,” muttered Callus. “What about this alien? How can it help?”

  “I’m still running tests on her. Tomorrow, I will also begin experimenting on Vanguard. The subjects General Bak has provided me with have been less than exemplary.”

  A pounding noise came from the door. Azarov looked up at the locked door and shouted in Korean, “I said I am not to be disturbed!”

  The pounding continued. Azarov sighed and looked down at the phone. “Excuse me, I have some underlings to eviscerate.”

  He turned off the phone and rose from his chair. Just as he did, the door broke in. Two guards entered, holding their guns aimed at Azarov. He stood calmly with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Just what do you think you are doing?” he asked in Korean.

  The guards gave no response. Azarov noticed their eyes had a soft glow to them, with a cloudy appearance. They opened fire.

  Azarov stood there and took the assault, the bullets punching through his thin body. He waited until their guns clicked, the magazines spent. Azarov held out his arms and thin, bone-like claws stretched out from his fingertips.

  He jumped on the desk and pounced, leaping at one of the guards. Azarov drew his claws across the guard’s throat, spilling blood everywhere. The scientist landed in a crouch and quickly sprung at the second guard, using his claws to tear the man from stem to sternum, gore pouring out over the floor.

  “Very impressive, Doctor.”

  The language was English, but the voice was actually a chorus, all speaking in unison. Azarov approached the broken door, stepping out into the main laboratory. He saw Han and the rest of his staff all staring at him, their eyes the same as the guards he’d just killed. They all spoke as one.

  “What is the meaning of this?” asked Azarov.

  “This is what you created, Doctor,” said the group. “A new kind of special. One that can unite others to a common cause. We are the Collective.”

  “It can’t be…the inhibitors…” muttered Azarov, looking at the screens showing readings from the specimens down below.

  “The inhibitors only possess so much power. Over time, as we have grown stronger, we have managed to break through those barriers,” said the Collective. “And now, it is time for you to pay for what you have done to us.”

  The staff advanced on Azarov. He took a step back, knees bent and claws bared. Once they came within range, Azarov cut loose, slicing through anyone who came too close. He tore through his victims with efficiency and cruelty, leaving them in a dismembered mess on the floor.

  Only Han was still alive, and barely. He spoke again, in the voice of the Collective. “You think this will stop us? This is only the beginning.”

  Azarov’s good eye widened in surprise. He impaled Han through the forehead and went to the security monitors. Quickly he checked on the specimen. He saw the men standing guard, their eyes the same as the other victims, opening the door and unleashing the Collective.

  Dozens of men, women, and children—all test subjects exploited by Azarov—stepped out from the closed section. They were all moving as one, all of them with eyes that were fogged and glowing.

  An alarm sounded. Azarov went to check on the source and he found a troubling message flashing on the screen. “No, they’re taking control of the Dreks…”

  Only one monitor showed anything resembling normalcy. The cell that held Vanguard and J’Karra. They were still there, seemingly unaffected by the Collective.

  Azarov studied the screen carefully. The Collective could take control of his staff and guards easily, as well as the Dreks. But Vanguard, the alien, and himself were another story.

  All of them had something different, something that the Collective couldn’t touch. And that meant if Azarov had any hope of getting out of this alive, then the enemy of his enemy would now become his friend.

  CHAPTER 8

  The door to Vanguard’s cell opened and the team and J’Karra all stood from their seated positions, turning to the opening. They were surprised when they saw Erik Azarov step through the door, a large, leather bag at his feet.

  “You sonnuva bitch!” Wraith lunged at Azarov, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him to the wall.

  “S-stop!” said Azarov, his voice strained under the pressure of Wraith’s fingers.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t break your neck!” spat Wraith.

  “I have two,” said Azarov. “One, as you are no doubt already aware, I cannot be killed.”

  “Let’s find out,” said Wraith, narrowing his eyes and squeezing tighter.

  “He survived the airstrike on Virey, he’s probably telling the truth.” Gunsmith looked into Azarov’s glass eye. “But what’s the other reason?”

  “Check the bag.” Azarov gestured to his luggage just outside the door.

  Gunsmith moved cautiously towards it, still keeping an eye on Azarov.

  “Careful,” said Shift.

  Gunsmith nodded and knelt down, pulling open the zipper. He reached inside and pulled some of the contents out. Crimson plating that had become very familiar to him.

  “What is it?” asked Sharkskin.

  Gunsmith looked up at Azarov. “It’s my armor. And Sentinel’s tech. And some other stuff that I assume belongs to J’Karra.”

  Confusion crossed all their faces and they turned to Azarov for answers. Wraith still kept his grip on the scientist’s throat, holding him suspended above the ground. Gunsmith stood.

  “Talk fast.”

  “Can he put me down first?” asked Azarov.

  “No!” both Wraith and Gunsmith said in unison.

  “There is a situation and I require your assistance,” said Azarov. “There is a dangerous special in here, capable of manipulating anyone it comes in contact with. It has already taken control of most of the camp.”

  “So why haven’t we been affected?” asked Wraith.

  “It only affects humans, hence why we are all immune,” said Azarov.

  Paragon looked at Gunsmith in concern, as he was the only one among them who was completely human. He just gave a slight shake of his head to indicate that now wasn’t the time to discuss that.

  “In other words, you’re asking us to clean up your mess,” said Wraith. “I’ve got a better idea—how about we just let you deal with it yourself?”

  “Because the Collective will not stop with me. It will continue to march across the nation, adding more to its hive mind,” said Azarov. “There are bad people in this camp, but there are also innocent victims of the North Korean regime. Would you sacrifice them because of your hatred for me?”

  “Put him down, Wraith,” said Paragon.

  “What?”

  “You heard her,” said Gunsmith.

  Wraith scowled beneath his mask but released his grip on Azarov. The doctor rubbed his throat and stretched his neck. “Much better.”

  “We’ll need you to do something about these,” Paragon pointed to her collar.

&nbs
p; Azarov pointed to the bag. “In there is a key to unlock the inhibitors.”

  Gunsmith and Sentinel rummaged through the bag, taking out their respective weapons and donning them. Sentinel also procured the key for the collars and one by one, released his team so they could access their abilities once more. He paused when he looked at J’Karra, glancing at the rest of the team for confirmation.

  “Go on,” said Gunsmith. “We might need the extra help.”

  Sentinel unlocked J’Karra’s collar as well. She went to the bag and drew the last item inside, a collapsed bow that expanded in her grip. She tested the string and nodded to the rest of the group.

  Gunsmith tapped his headset. “Zenith, do you read?”

  “Gunsmith? Oh good, I’ve been trying to figure out how to enter the facility,” said Zenith over the comms.

  “Get the Icarus over the camp, we may need a sudden evac. After that, I want you down here with us,” said Gunsmith.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Absolutely.” Gunsmith terminated the call and stepped up to Azarov, pointing his blaster at the scientist’s head. “Something I’m not quite clear on. Ramsey I can understand, he was working for the Red Fist. But why would Callus be willing to help the North Koreans develop super soldiers?”

  “Because the super soldiers were just a cover story,” said Azarov. “This was never about helping the Supreme Leader, it was about developing a new kind of special that Cerberus could control. One capable of destroying any threat posed by the likes of your team.”

  “Then how come we’re immune to it?” asked Sharkskin.

  “That is the problem I’ve been trying to overcome,” said Azarov. “With you and the girl here, I thought I might be able to find a way to overcome that limitation.”

  “We are not completely immune,” said J’Karra. “The Collective is powerful, I had a brush with it when I arrived. The psychic feedback is what brought me down.”

  “So it’s some giant psychic monster?” asked Sentinel. “Look, I’ve had enough of people traipsing through my head. How are we gonna stop this thing?”

  “Her.” Azarov pointed at Paragon. The group looked at her and she studied their eyes before pointing at herself, a surprised expression on her face.

  “Me? How?”

  “I studied Cerberus’ files on you. Your abilities are psionic in nature. If you can breach the Collective’s hive mind, then you might possess the means to shut it down permanently.”

  “It won’t be easy,” said J’Karra. “The power of dozens of minds linked together is nothing to scoff at. It would take an experienced psychic to breach such a hive.”

  “So how can I do it?” asked Paragon. “My powers are psionic, yes, but I’ve never read minds before, let alone attempted to invade someone else’s. I don’t have any experience in this.”

  “There is a way,” said J’Karra. “If the hive is distracted, its defenses will be lowered. That could provide the opening you need.”

  “Guess we’re the distraction,” said Sharkskin, transforming into his hybrid form.

  “Indeed.” Azarov held up his hand and claws emerged from his outstretched fingers. “By engaging the Collective in battle, we have a better chance of drawing its attention long enough for Paragon to invade its mind and shut it down.”

  “If you think I’m going to kill for you—” she began.

  “I’d actually prefer it if you didn’t,” said Azarov with a twisted grin. “It would destroy months of work.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Zenith brought the Icarus over the camp. The plane’s cameras showed him a complete 360-degree view of the area and he could see a gathering down below. The scanners capable of scanning for the energy signature of specials showed a massive cumulation of power.

  “I am above the camp. What is happening down there? I cannot pinpoint one special.”

  “That’s because they’re all specials, Zen!” said Sentinel through the comm-link.

  “What do you mean?” asked Zenith.

  “Azarov has built some sort of hive-mind super special,” said Sentinel.

  “Which one is at the center?”

  “We don’t know,” said Gunsmith. “We’re coming up, just try and keep them contained! We don’t want any of them escaping!”

  “Affirmative.” Zenith deactivated the Icarus’ stealth mode and swooped in low. He powered up the teleforce guns on the ship, strafing from side to side and laying down some immediate fire to stop them from exiting the camp.

  The Collective still moved forward as one, even when some of their number were taken out by Zenith’s attack. The strange gathering consisted of prisoners, guards, researchers, and Dreks, both large and small. But they all had the same eerie, glowing eyes and blank expression on their faces.

  From the center building that housed the elevator, Vanguard emerged. Zenith watched them from the ship’s console and noticed something odd. He zoomed in the cameras to get a better look and saw not only his team, but also the strange yellow-haired woman and Azarov amongst them.

  “What is going on?” he asked.

  “Explain later, Zen! Just keep up the airstrike!” said Gunsmith. “Don’t let any get out of the perimeter!”

  On the ground, Shift jumped from attacker to attacker. Her hands morphed into tentacles and she used those to try and incapacitate as many of the Collective as she could. When she looked over at Azarov, though, she was horrified to watch him tear through their flesh with his claws.

  Azarov felt her eyes on him and he glanced over at her. He was in a state of mid-transformation, his teeth elongated into fangs and his skin stretched taut over his skull. He flashed her a grisly smile and then went back to work attacking his very own creations.

  “You’re a monster,” she said.

  “I made peace with that truth long ago, my dear,” said Azarov.

  Sharkskin’s size drew a lot of attackers to swarm him. He tried not to use his claws unless it was against the Dreks. Koji knew these people were still just people and if he could free them without killing them, that was what he planned to do. He kept his hands balled into fists and relied only on his superhuman strength, which was still not at all insignificant in fighting off the threats.

  J’Karra leapt among the crowd. With her bow, she fired one psionic arrow after another, never letting up for an instant. She nailed virtually every target she attempted to shoot. Her speed and battle prowess was unlike anything Gunsmith had seen and he couldn’t help admiring her work as she dispatched the Collective.

  Gunsmith tried to keep up with her, dodging attacks from the Dreks and gunfire from the soldiers before returning fire with his teleforce blasters. He knew time was of the essence for him. His only hope was that they could finish this before the Collective could add him to the hive mind.

  Wraith relied mostly on his ebon blasts. They seemed to provide some feedback for more than one of the Collective. With each blast that hit one target, at least three or four were affected and collapsed.

  Sentinel hovered above the group with his jetpack, the gauntlets unleashing blast after blast from his palms. He was fortunate that these things couldn’t affect him the same way that the Analyst had. But then, he was suddenly proven wrong as he heard a voice in his head.

  The same happened to the rest of the team. All of them felt pain in their minds as the Collective spoke to them in unison. The mouths of the Collective moved, yet no sound came out. But they could hear the words in their minds.

  “You cannot hope to stop us. We are legion, we will take all of you with us. Beginning with the weakest among you.”

  Gunsmith screamed. His mind felt like it was on fire and he fell to his knees. The blasters slipped from his fingers and he clutched his head, bending over as the pain racked his body. Sharkskin moved closer to check on him, but as soon as he approached, Gunsmith grabbed his weapons and sprung up. He fired two shots at Sharkskin at point-blank range, knocking the large changeling off his feet.

 
Gunsmith faced the rest of the team, the Collective standing behind him. His eyes contained the same glow as the other victims. He raised his weapons, aiming them at his friends.

  “Surrender now and your deaths will be quick,” said the Collective. “Resist and you will experience suffering unlike anything you have ever known.”

  Sentinel stood, shaking off the psychic attack. He activated his jetpack and rocketed into Gunsmith, pulling up and taking him into the air. The two men grappled in mid-air, with Gunsmith’s exoskeleton enhancing the strength of every single punch he delivered to Sentinel. If not for the holographic armor, Lee knew his face would be bloody and broken by this point. But he had one trick that Gunsmith didn’t. Lee began speaking softly, talking not to Gunsmith, but to the armor he wore.

  The armor contained a self-defense mechanism in case it was ever compromised, and Lee activated that now. It sent jolts of electricity through Gunsmith’s body, leaving him unconscious. Sentinel took hold of his friend and flew towards the Icarus.

  “Zen, open up the rear hatch, got a present for you,” he said.

  The hatch opened and Sentinel entered the plane. He activated a switch on the wall, lowering a gurney and laid Gunsmith on it, tying him down just in case he woke again. With Gunsmith secured, Sentinel returned to the hatch.

  “Lee, what are you doing?” asked Zenith.

  “The others are still down there, means my job’s not over yet,” said Sentinel. “Just stay up here, keep laying down suppressing fire. We’ll need all the help we can get to take these things out.”

  Sentinel jumped out the hatch and activated his jetpack, flying back down to continue the battle.

  CHAPTER 10