STRIKE: THE HERO FROM THE SKY (STRIKE TRILOGY, BOOK 1)

by Charlie Wood

  Vincent realized that the old man was dying.

  “I know,” Vincent said. His voice was again human. “I know I was never very nice to you, Orion. I gave you a lot of crap, when all you were trying to do was be my friend. That was a horrible way for me to be.”

  Vincent remembered: he was seventeen years old, and the others were fifteen years old. They were in their daily training session in the Guardian Headquarters. As usual, Orion was trying to go through an obstacle course, but he was nervous, and he made a simple mistake. Vincent, though, was furious, and he yelled at Orion, jabbing a finger in his face and nearly bringing him to tears. Their mentor, a kind man named Steve, had to step in and pull the infuriated Vincent away.

  Vincent stared at his green hands holding Orion’s coat. He could not believe they were now both old men.

  “I look at the way I was then and I regret it,” Vincent said, relaxing his grip. “I do. Every day.”

  Vincent was eighteen years old and Orion was sixteen years old. They were at a high school party. Orion was talking to a pretty girl, which Vincent knew took all of Orion’s courage and all of Scott’s words of encouragement to accomplish. After some initial nerves, Orion was doing quite well, but then Vincent walked over and poured a cup of soda over his head. Vincent laughed, so did the girl, and they walked away. Titan, with his feathered wings hidden, took Orion by the arm and led him to their other friends.

  Vincent tried to push the memories away, but he couldn’t. He never could.

  “But I acted like that because I couldn’t handle it,” he said. “Being a hero, being famous, having these powers—any of it. But you guys could. You loved it. You savored it. And I hated you for that.”

  The Guardians were in their late teens, and they were taking part in a press conference. Titan and Orion were laughing along with the reporters as Strike took control of the room, rattling off his rapid-fire jokes. Vincent—transformed into the Rantamede—was standing behind the others, awkwardly smiling and feeling out of place and untrue to himself.

  Vincent’s grip on Orion’s coat tightened.

  “And then,” he said, “after the others...I thought you would understand, Orion. You were smarter than them, and I thought you would listen to me. But you didn’t.”

  Strike, Orion, and Titan were twenty-two years old. They were hanging out on a rooftop, talking and laughing with a couple of other brightly-colored superheroes. Vincent, twenty-four years old, was watching them from a doorway, but when they called to him, he walked back into the building.

  “And instead you went against me,” Vincent said. The animal, the fury, was returning. “And what became of you then, Orion? What did you turn into, after our team disbanded? You went and joined Scott and became his sidekick. That’s what sickens me the most about all of this. That you became a sidekick.”

  Vincent raised his claws over his head. They glistened.

  “I’m sorry, O. For you and the others. I truly am.”

  The claws snapped with black fire.

  “But it always ends this way. Every time.”

  Suddenly a voice spoke from above them.

  “Look, I know why you’re pissed.”

  Vincent snapped his head up; Strike was standing on a balcony, overlooking the courtyard.

  “I’d be pissed, too,” the hero said. “Your super-villain name is the Rantamede. That’s gotta suck.”

  Vincent dropped Orion and stepped toward the boy.

  “There you go!” he said. “Now you’re taking after your old man—a joking, goofy idiot, just like him. Perfect.”

  Strike jumped down from the balcony, with his cape rippling behind him. “I mean, there’s so many cool ones,” he continued. “Venom, the Joker, Sabretooth—and you get stuck with Rantamede? That’s not a super-villain name. I’m pretty sure that’s a sports drink of some kind.”

  Vincent clapped his hands together. “Yes! You’re so much like him it’s scary! Next are you gonna knock up an Earth chick and be stuck here with her forever, too?”

  Strike took his bo-staff from his back, lighting it with electricity.

  “Enough. This ends now.”

  Vincent held his hands out. “I’ve heard it all before, kid. And I just keep coming back.”

  Black fire formed in Vincent’s hand, and he hurled it at Strike. The hero dodged it, cartwheeled to his right, and pointed his weapon at Vincent. A lightning bolt blasted from it, sending the monster to one knee.

  Strike ran at the monster, standing over him. “Your reign of evil is over, Vincent Harris!”

  Vincent knelt on the ground. At first it sounded like he was panting, but he wasn’t—he was laughing. He stood and laughed loud and hard as he looked at Strike.

  “Wow! That was horrible, Tobin! I mean, I have heard some goofy things come out of superheroes’ mouths in my time, but that was the worst! Historically bad. Top ten, without a doubt.”

  Vincent made a fist, and instantly Strike burst into flames. The boy panicked, trying to put fire out, but the flames only grew.

  “Don’t feel too bad,” Vincent said. “That little lightning bolt from your staff hurts. A little. Like when you stub your toe.”

  Vincent flicked his wrist, and Strike was whipped up into the air. With another flick of his wrist, the monster sent the boy thrashing around the courtyard, and his body smashed into the surrounding walls and trees. With each high-speed thud, the boy could feel his bones cracking.

  Finally, Strike fell to the ground. He lay there, with the air sucked out of him.

  Vincent stomped toward him. “Time to finally learn why I’m doing this, Tobin. Time to finally get some answers.”

  Strike used the last of his strength and stood, bracing himself against the wall. With a groan, he limped toward the entrance of the courtyard.

  Vincent followed the boy, fire rolling in each of his hands. “This is my destiny, Tobin. I deserve this. You’ll see. I know how you think.”

  Strike fell against the courtyard doorway. Leaning down, he picked up the blue duffle bag lying there. He turned around, holding the bag.

  Vincent stopped. “What—where did you get that? Where did that come from?”

  Strike unzipped the bag. “I put it over there before my big balcony entrance. Thought I might need it. Always planning ahead, this guy.”

  Vincent stared at the bag. The fire in his hands disappeared. “No. That’s…what—what’s inside it?”

  “I don’t know. But let’s find out, shall we?”

  Strike looked into the bag. A brilliant white light shone out of it, illuminating his face.

  “Whoa,” he said.

  Vincent stepped back. “No, Tobin. Don’t. Please.”

  Strike reached into the bag, pulling out the shining object: it was two pieces of a white bo-staff. Vincent was stunned.

  “No…that’s—that’s your father’s. I destroyed that years ago. You can’t have that. You can’t.”

  Strike put the two pieces of the staff together; they created one long bo-staff that erupted with white lightning. Electricity was soon flowing from the weapon, and spreading over Strike’s arms.

  “That’s not the Staff of Titan,” Vincent said. “It’s not.”

  “Sorry,” Strike told him, “but I’m pretty sure it is.” He twirled the bo-staff around his head. “By the way, what’s the Staff of Titan?”

  “No!” Vincent bellowed. “That’s not it! That’s not real!” He scurried back, hurling fire at Strike. “Get away from me, Tobin! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I’ll rip you apart!”

  Strike cringed at the impact of the fire, but soon realized it was simply disintegrating against the white electricity coursing around him.

  “Where was this thing two hours ago?” he wondered.

  Vincent stumbled, falling over the root of a tree. When he clambered up, he saw Strike walking toward him. The hero’s body was covered with white electricity.

  “No, Tobin,” Vincent said, holding his palms out. “It
doesn’t end like this. Listen to me, Tobin—you need to know why I’m here. There’s a reason why I’ve been—”

  A lightning bolt scorched down from the sky, striking the weapon in Tobin’s hand. The electricity around the boy grew wilder. Wind began to swirl around the courtyard.

  “No,” Vincent said. He closed his eyes. “No.”

  Tobin swung the weapon forward, and a lightning bolt screamed out from it, striking into Vincent. The white electricity streamed into the monster, circulating in one long, scorching loop. The power was so strong that Tobin could barely hold onto the weapon, even with both hands.

  Overcome with the lightning, Vincent let out a mighty scream. As he threw his fists outward, he created an explosion that sent Tobin flying across the courtyard. With his bo-staff no longer lit with electricity, the boy got to his feet and looked to Vincent.

  The monster was stumbling with the white energy running over him, slithering like bright, flashing snakes. As Vincent barked and growled, the ground was trembling underneath him, and the building’s walls began to shake. A thunderclap boomed, and the windows around the courtyard shattered. Tobin had to cover himself from the broken glass that blasted into the area.

  Vincent dropped to his knees, pounding the ground with his fists. A sphere of white electricity was surrounding him, flashing from his eyes and mouth. Soon his entire body was enveloped by the light, and when he opened his mouth to scream, no sound came out.

  Then, with a sudden crack of thunder and a blinding white flash, all was quiet.

  Tobin blinked his eyes. He looked across the courtyard.

  Vincent was gone; there was nothing where he stood but a burnt spot, flashing with white electricity on the ground.

  Tobin stepped forward, but suddenly another thunderclap boomed. Rain poured from the clouds, and a black lightning bolt seared down, striking directly in front of Tobin. “Whoa!” he shouted.

  The ground shook. The walls of the courtyard erupted in purple flames. Tobin pushed forward, with the strange combination of intense heat and rain all around him. The noise of the storm was immense.

  “Orion!” he yelled. “Orion, where are you? Orion!”

  The walls of the school began to crumble, and the trees crashed down. Tobin looked up and saw that a raging roof of black fire was now covering them, stretching from one side of the courtyard to the other, trapping him and Orion inside. The thunderstorm raged.

  Pushing past a tree, Tobin finally saw Orion lying on the muddy ground.

  “Orion! C’mon, we’ve gotta get out of here! Let’s go!”

  “No!” the old man shouted. He was holding his right leg, which was bent awkwardly. “I can’t go with you, Tobin—you need to get out of here, now, before the—”

  A wall of fire erupted in between them, and Tobin could barely see Orion through the flames.

  “No, I’m not leaving you! Let’s go, Orion! C’mon!”

  “I can’t, Tobin! It’s my leg, I won’t be able—”

  “I’ll help you! I won’t go without you!”

  “Do not argue with me, Tobin! You and the others are what’s important now! Get them to safety and—”

  Another black lightning bolt shot down, striking into a tree. It burst into flames, crashing down in front of Tobin and blocking Orion from his view.

  “No!” the boy yelled. “No! Orion! Orion!”

  But the fire was too much. As the courtyard began to fill with black, heavy smoke, Tobin coughed and looked for a way out. Finally, he saw that one of the only spots not covered in flames was the door back into the school.

  Tobin headed for the door, but then stopped. He thought.

  He walked back to the fallen tree. He reached down, grabbed the underside of its burning trunk, and lifted it with all his might. The fire burned through his gloves and ate away at his skin, but he did not feel the pain; his body and mind knew that there was no other choice but this one.

  Holding the tree up with one hand, Tobin held out the other.

  “C’mon!”

  With Orion leaning against him, Tobin made his way out into the hallway of the school. But the building was shaking around them, falling in massive chunks of brick, and they had to move very carefully. As they neared the lobby, Tobin looked back to the courtyard.

  A wall of purple fire exploded out from it, erupting into the gymnasium. The fire quickly ate through the gym and then charged down the hall, swallowing up the walls and lockers along its way. The fire was after the boy and the old man, as if it knew they were its prey.

  When he finally reached the lobby, Tobin saw that the school’s exit was blocked by fire. He looked back to where they had come from, but saw that the wall of flames was rolling closer.

  Tobin only had a few seconds. He needed to find another way out.

  He looked up. It had been there every morning since the first day of his freshman year, but he had never given it any thought until now: the lobby’s skylight, with its intricate, colorful glass etched with his school letters.

  Orion murmured, shifting against Tobin. The old man was barely conscious. Tobin had to make a decision.

  He closed his eyes and remembered.

  Tobin was standing on a tree stump outside of the Museum of the Heroes. He had been training there for four days now and had grown to hate it. He hated the obstacle rooms, he hated the robots, he hated the lessons, and he especially hated this lesson: high above him, hanging from a tree branch, there was a golden ring.

  Standing on his tippy-toes, Tobin stretched out and reached for the ring. He concentrated and closed his eyes, until finally lightning sparked from his boots and pushed him upward.

  But, the lightning quickly fizzled, sputtering out in pathetic little pops. Tobin slammed his fists against his legs.

  “Dammit! Just tell me how to do this!”

  Orion walked to him.

  “No,” the old man said. “There will come a time when I am not here with you. At that time, you will be alone, and you will have no choice but to take what you have learned and use it. No more handholding, no more being watched over. Become your own person.”

  Tobin opened his eyes. He looked at the skylight. His eyes flickered. Lightning. Electricity. He could feel it. It started in his hands and ran down to his feet.

  Suddenly Tobin shot up into the air! With a burst of electricity trailing behind him, leaving a blue streak from his boots to the floor, he and Orion soared toward the skylight. Only one phrase could sum up the boy’s feelings, so he belted it out:

  “Woooo-hooooooooooooooooo!”

  Breaking through the glass with a CRASH!, Tobin and Orion escaped into the open air. The wall of fire burst out after them, nipping at Tobin’s ankles, but quickly gave up on them and rushed downward, spreading its flames over the roof of the school.

  When Tobin was so high up that the buildings of Bridgton began to look like children’s toys, his momentum stopped, and he started to fall. Popping bursts of electricity in his feet to slow his descent, he made his way across Middle Street and towards the Bridgton Public Library. When he landed on the roof, he let go of Orion and looked back to the school.

  Bridgton High was overcome with purple fire; its walls were unseen under the flames, and its roof soon crashed in on itself.

  Tobin handed his bo-staff to Orion. “Well, I guess there’s no school tomorrow.”

  Orion leaned on the staff, putting all of his weight on his uninjured leg. As much pain as he was in, he was still overcome with relief.

  “You shouldn’t have come back for me, Tobin. That wasn’t very smart.”

  Tobin thought it over. “Well, sometimes you have to make the right decision. Even when it seems really, really dumb.”

  Orion laughed. “Not exactly what I said, but close enough.”

  Tobin and Orion heard a siren, so they walked to the edge of the library and looked down.

  The walls of the Dark Nebula were thinning; its swirling surface was breaking away in chunks, and the cloud w
as dissipating like fog on a hot summer afternoon. An ambulance from the other side was finally able to push through the barrier, and a team of medical workers immediately jumped out of its doors. They were stunned by the destruction.

  Groups of people began to notice the ambulance and emerge from their hiding places. Among them were a dozen high school students, led by Jennifer and Chad.

  “Hey, over here!” a medical worker yelled. “More help is on the way—come on everyone! What the hell has been going on in here?!”

  Chad approached the EMT. “I don’t know, it happened so fast. We were in the school when—”

  “Hey!” the ambulance driver shouted, pointing to the roof of the library. “Look!”

  Strike was leaning over the edge of the roof. When he realized he had been spotted, he quickly darted out of sight.

  “Did you see that?” the EMT asked, spinning to the others. “What the hell was that?”

  Jennifer and Chad looked at each other. They smiled.

  “I have no idea,” Jennifer said.

  Leaning over the library roof, Orion looked down at the street.

  “Hey, aren’t those your friends down there, Tobin? Tobin…?”

  Orion turned around. Tobin was kneeling on the rooftop, with his arms across his stomach. His eyes were filled with fear.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said.

  Orion rushed to the boy, helping him lie down.

  “What is it, Tobin? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know…I don’t know.” Tobin gulped for air, a wheeze coming from his throat. “I can’t breathe, everything’s fading away, everything’s going away.”

  Tobin tried to focus on Orion, but the old man’s face went blurry. All Tobin could see was a white light over the old man’s shoulder, seeping through the Dark Nebula. Cracks were revealing streaks of the sky behind it.

  Tobin looked at Orion. The old man was a haze of red and grey.

  “Am I gonna die?” the boy asked. “Am I dying?”

  “It’s okay,” Orion said. “Close your eyes. Everything’s gonna be—”