The Super Power Saga (Book 2): Rise of the Supervillains

by Knuth, Jaron Lee

  “How dumb do they think we are?” Esmeralda asked, picking up the basket of Gaian fruit.

  Hector shot her a look and grabbed her wrist, pulling her out onto the balcony. He motioned for Miguel to follow them. Once they were outside, he shut the doors to their room.

  “Dumb enough to speak openly in the hotel room they provided us.”

  Esmeralda looked at him quizzically, as if she didn't understand what he was getting at.

  Miguel explained, “The room is bugged.”

  Esmeralda rolled her eyes. “You're being paranoid. Besides, they should know who they're dealing with. I won't roll over and show my belly in these negotiations. Now that Neo-Nippon is out of the picture, I'm their only hope, not the other way around.”

  “You need to focus on why we're here. Your little trade deal is just an excuse to get us inside the Grand Citadel so I can find a way for Miguel and I to sneak in later. If everything goes according to plan, there won't be a Zharkov left to make a deal with.”

  The wind whipped Esmeralda's hair across her face as the look in her eyes turned cold. Hector recognized it immediately.

  “What's wrong?”

  “You're being foolish. Overly-confident. This isn't like you. You're making me worried.”

  Hector dismissed it with a wave of his hand, turning to look out over the city. “Look at where we are. Of course I'm feeling confident. Because everything is falling into place. I'm on the doorstep of the Imperator's home, with a weapon that can kill him and his entire brood, and the woman I love holds the key to getting me inside. All I need to do is swing my sword, and I'll free the world from tyranny.”

  “My god,” Esmeralda said. “You actually believe that, don't you?”

  Hector spun around, angered that she would belittle him in front of Miguel, but their son was standing at attention, questioning neither of them.

  “Of course I believe that. So do you. This is what our lives have been all about. This is what we always wanted.”

  Esmeralda pointed like she could strike the words with the tip of her finger. “That. Right there. That's what worries me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The fact that you think we're about to succeed. The fact that you think we're about to accomplish our goals. That's what's foolish.” She turned to Miguel and spoke directly to him. “Son, this isn't the end of our mission. This isn't the finish line. This is another step in our journey. We may succeed in killing the Imperator-”

  “Of course we will!” Hector shouted.

  Esmeralda shot him a look, then returned to Miguel. “We may even succeed in killing some of the other Zharkovs. But there is no guarantee. That's why we always have a backup plan. We always have an escape plan. Because no matter what, our mission needs to continue. Do you understand?”

  Miguel glanced at Hector, as if he was worried that agreeing with his mother meant he disagreed with his father. Hector smiled.

  “It's okay, son. Your mother is right. I will admit that I am perhaps being a bit grandiose with my words. But it's only the excitement of what's happening that lifts me up. We are so close, I feel like I can reach out and grab the Imperator by the neck.”

  “You're too excited,” Esmeralda said, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against the rail of their balcony. “I agree that we need to focus on our goal, but we need to look past it as well. What happens the day after... the month after... the year after? Just because we kill one Imperator, doesn't mean the Empire falls. There's always someone ready to wear the crown.”

  “But mother,” Miguel finally spoke, “we're not only here to kill the Imperator. We're here to make a point.”

  Hector smiled wide and he caught Esmeralda giving him a look of disgust. She knew he was proud that their son was taking his side in the argument.

  “And what point are we making, son?” Hector asked, only hoping to forward his son's stance.

  “We're showing them that a mortal, with no disease, can kill a Zharkov. We're showing the world that you don't need to fear the Empire.”

  Hector gripped Miguel's shoulder and said, “That's exactly right, son,” then pointed up at the imperial flag that blew in the wind across the street and added, “That flag tells the world that they should fear and love the Empire. But the only reason they love the Empire, is because they fear it. You take away one, and the other will disappear.”

  Miguel nodded and then turned to Esmeralda and asked, “Do you understand now, mother?”

  Esmeralda glared at Hector and then smiled down at Miguel and said, “Of course, son. I always have, and I always will.” Then she turned back to the hotel room and opened the door, glancing back at Hector and Miguel as she said, “I'll leave you two alone.”

  The door slammed behind her, making her feelings clear to Hector, but Miguel didn't notice. He gripped onto the railing and peered out across the city.

  “It looks just like you said it would.”

  “So they don't have you fooled?”

  Miguel bolted upright. “Of course not!”

  “Good. Because all of this,” Hector said, pointing out across the city, “is for us. A presentation for their guests. They want you to believe that this city is what it looks like across the Fatherlands. A thriving metropolis of free people, happy and content, full of food and riches, blissfully worshiping the Imperator and his Empire. This is a curtain they have tried to pull over our eyes, Miguel. This is an illusion.”

  Hector pointed toward the horizon. “If you left the city, if you went twenty miles in any direction, the world would look very different.”

  “The work camps?” Miguel offered.

  “The work camps. The broken down men and women, suffering day in and day out to feed their families. You've lived a privileged life, son. And sometimes I worry that we coddled you, spoiled you too much. I worry that you can't relate to the pain and hardships of the average imperial citizen.”

  “We live in the same home, father. We eat the same food. We enjoy the same luxuries. Yet you do not question whether you and mother understand.”

  Hector smiled softly. “I question whether your mother understands all the time, son.”

  “But what about you? Why are you so different? What hardships have you endured that make you able to understand?”

  The smile fell away from Hector's lips. A shadow of remembrance formed on his face. He fell into his past, into the darkness that he kept at bay. He knew this was the time, the place to tell his son, whether he wanted to or not. They would face it together.

  “Do you know why I became the Knight Wolf?”

  Miguel opened his mouth to let out his immediate reply, then stopped himself to give the question a deeper thought. He rubbed his chin a few times before he answered.

  “To fight evil.”

  “That's a good answer,” Hector said. “But the real question is, why was that so important to me? Why did I dedicate myself to doing that?”

  Miguel thought about it again before he said, “I'm sorry, father. I don't know if I've ever thought about who you were before the Knight Wolf.”

  Hector placed his hand on Miguel's back and said, “That's okay, son. Most people reach an age when they finally see their parents as real people... as peers.”

  “Did something happen to you when you were young?”

  Hector nodded.

  “What was it?”

  Hector took a deep breath and said, “My father.”

  “Your father? You've never spoken of him before. Did he... was he...”

  “Evil. In the truest sense of the word.” Hector took another large breath to summon the strength he needed to speak. “He trained me. Much like I've trained you. Only he trained me for a very different reason. He did not teach me to fight so that I might help the weak or save the innocent. He taught me to be a villain.”

  “You? A villain?”

  Hector closed his eyes. “It's true. My father was a supervillain. His hands were made of
diamonds. He was known as Hate-Fist.”

  “I've... I've heard that name.”

  “Not from my lips.”

  “No,” Miguel said. “In my studies.”

  “For a time, he was infamous. People feared him more than most villains. His crimes were... despicable. Acts of torture and rape. Heinous performances created to strike fear into the hearts of the public. He thought he could rule the world, if only people feared him enough. And much like the Zharkovs, he wanted someone he could pass down his kingdom to.”

  “And that was you?”

  Hector nodded.

  “But wouldn't that make you-”

  “Diseased? I thought so too. For most of my childhood. But it was all lies. He wasn't my biological father. He stole me as a baby from one of his victims.”

  “To teach you to be a villain?”

  “That was his plan. He raised me in a cage, both literally and figuratively. I was never let outside. I was never allowed to see the real world. The only information I was given was through him. He was trying to create the ultimate weapon in his sick war. When I was only a child, he would bring me victims to practice on. Forcing me to cut them, torture them... sometimes worse than that.”

  Hector turned away, ashamed by his memories, and ashamed for his son to see him in such a vulnerable state. But it was necessary. Miguel needed to know the pain Hector had endured. For his son. For the world.

  “He taught me that the world was weak. He taught me that it needed to be strengthened. And he taught me that the only way to do that, was to punish it. Like forging a blade, the soft metal needed to be beaten, hardened, so that one day it might be able to defend itself.”

  Hector shook his head. “But that was all bullshit. He wanted to beat them down so that they knew just how weak they were. He wanted to flex his muscles, like any common bully, because deep down, he was the weak one. And the only way he felt strong, was to see them cry out in pain, to beg him to stop.”

  Miguel stared up at his father, and Hector knew that for the first time, his son could see his wounds.

  “No matter what he told me, there was something inside of me that knew what I was doing was wrong. He was a psychopath, without empathy for human life. But there was goodness inside of me. There was that voice in the back of my head that told me the people I was hurting were like me. And I felt their pain. Every cut I made in their flesh, cut me too. And no matter how many lies he told me about how I should hate them, it didn't stick. Eventually I knew the truth. I wanted to save them. I wanted to save myself.”

  “So what did you do? How did you break free?”

  Hector gripped the railing, feeling his strength pump through his veins as the memory came rushing back. The thought of that day made him feel whole again. It made him feel like the Knight Wolf again.

  “I killed my father. Slowly. I used every technique he had taught me against him. I made him feel as much pain as his body would allow. He lasted for weeks.”

  Miguel blinked, saying nothing.

  “I was nine years old when I finally saw the world, when I finally left that basement I had lived my entire life in. I was nine years old when I finally saw the truth. And I think, in a way, I was nine years old when I became the Knight Wolf.”

  Miguel reached out and placed his small hand on his father's bruised and gnarled grip on the railing. Hector let his hand relax, and let his mind return to the present.

  “The Zharkovs are keeping the world in their basement. The Zharkovs are lying to the people. The Zharkovs are forcing the citizens of the Empire to accept their acts of evil and telling them it's for the good of the world.” Hector turned to his son and said, “But just like my father, they will die. And the world will see the truth. They will see that the diseased are not an evolutionary step forward, but a twisted mutation, a cancer that needs to be cut from the body.”

  He pulled Miguel in tight, holding him in the blowing wind, embracing him as a son, as a partner, and as his last hope.

  “Don't worry, father,” Miguel said, holding onto Hector even tighter. “We're going to kill them all. And we're going to do it together.”

  21

  LUCY

  As the aircraft descended toward the landing pad at Power Tower, Lucy stared at the floor in a daze. Her feelings and thoughts were fleeting. They all swam around her mind, drifting toward consciousness, only to flutter away.

  When she felt a sting on her forearm, she looked down to see a mosquito nestled into her skin, sucking out her blood. The pain was irritating, but she watched it for a while as it took its fill. Then, without a thought, her hand slammed down on top of it, leaving a small red puddle where it used to be.

  “You did good out there, kid,” Stonewall said through the headset. “Don't be ashamed of flinching. Everyone does their first time. Personally? I'm glad you came through. You saved a lot of lives out there, and you also saved mine. So... thanks.”

  Lucy nodded. She accepted his gratitude as a fellow soldier, and when she did, she knew her black and white morality had been left somewhere out in the ocean. She didn't feel like a superhero, but maybe she didn't have to. Maybe being just a hero was enough.

  When the aircraft came to a rest, Spook said into the headset, “That's it. We're off the clock. Get some R&R. We'll get back to training in two days.”

  Stonewall and Blackout bumped their fists together with a smile and climbed out of the vehicle. Lucy sat there, staring at the floor of the aircraft with her seat belt still latched.

  “Is there a problem, Retina?”

  The question shook her out of her daze and she switched her vision so she could see Spook's invisible form.

  “No, sir. No problem. I'm just like... not sure I'm ready to return to... all of this.”

  Spook walked back over to her and hooked his thumb back toward the tower. “Civilian life can be hard sometimes. I know that. You think this invisible body makes for a nice, normal lifestyle?”

  Lucy actually felt a little guilty, knowing that he probably suffered a much harder existence than her own, but that didn't make her feel any better either.

  “I'm not sure how to...”

  She couldn't exactly put it into words, either out of confusion or embarrassment, but Spook finished the sentence for her.

  “You're not sure how to relate to the rest of these people. Right?”

  Lucy thought of Connor. She thought of those crystal blue eyes that hid the pessimism he had for everything the Alliance was doing. She thought of his hope for her, that she wouldn't be changed by her new life. And she thought of the disappointment he would feel when he not only found out what she had done, but that she actually agreed with the decision.

  “I'm not sure anyone will understand what we did out there.”

  In a hushed tone, Spook said, “You know you can't tell anyone what we did.”

  “I know,” Lucy said. “I think that's half the problem. I have to like... deal with this myself. I have to act like I didn't just....”

  Spook's hand set down on Lucy's knee, startling her. “You like superheroes, right?”

  Lucy was confused by the question, but she shrugged and said, “Yeah. Sure. I guess.”

  “Okay. Have you read about the heroes before the Empire? When they ran around with masks and secret identities?”

  “Some of them.”

  “And do you know why they had secret identities?”

  Lucy still didn't understand where this line of questioning was leading, but she played along.

  “Sure. So they could keep their loved ones safe. So their enemies didn't know who they really were. So they could still lead a normal life.”

  “All of that's true. But there was another reason. A reason not many people talk about. See, the things that those people did, the things they saw, weren't easy to deal with. The men and women that woke up one day with super powers probably couldn't have handled it. They were mail carriers, waitresses, and teachers. They weren't mentally ready to go head-to-head
with psychopaths and world conquerors, yet there they were. Doing exactly that. And the only way that happened, was by putting on a mask and creating an alter ego, so that when they looked in the mirror, it wasn't a weak, normal person that looked back at them. It was a superhero.”

  Lucy rubbed her eyes and asked, “Sorry, sir, but what's your point?”

  “My point is: When you walk into that tower, you become Lucy Grae again. You take off that uniform and you leave Retina out in this big, nasty, confusing world. Lucy goes back to living her life. Eating the same food and listening to the same music and thinking about the same, trivial things she did yesterday. You let Retina deal with all the bullshit out here.”

  Lucy frowned. “So you want me to form a like... split personality?”

  “Call it whatever you want,” Spook said, his voice trailing off as he walked away, “but it just might save your life.”

  Lucy rejected the idea flat out, but as she crawled out of the vehicle and walked toward the entrance of Power Tower, she felt it happening. Like she was shedding skin, leaving the soldier behind and transforming back into the girl she used to be. By the time she was walking through the door, it felt as though her eyes were open wider, her lips curled into a smile, and her mind was finally calm.

  When she got to her room, she took off her uniform, throwing it onto the bed before she climbed into the shower. She turned the water so hot that it scalded her skin, yet it felt good. The intense water pressure pounded against her, exfoliating every last memory from her body. When she stepped out, she felt completely renewed.

  The door buzzed and she excitedly ran over to unlock it with her towel wrapped around her. When the door slid open and she saw Connor's worried face, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the room, shoving her lips forcefully onto his. She pulled him in as tightly as she could, kissing him over and over.

  “Hi,” he said between each kiss, “I'm... glad... you're... back...”