by Kipjo Ewers
The punch lifted him six feet off the ground, dropping him to his knees in defeat. Ms. Dennison grabbed him by the front of his leather red and blue cosmic themed costume with one arm draping him up. She slowly began to ascend to the sky with him, kicking up a sand storm partially covering the Machine.
She was sending a message to those watching aboard the USS George H.W. Bush.
The audio could not pick up what she was saying, but it was not hard to read her lips, “Don’t come back.”
Even with his regenerative healing being several times greater than Rogers, he still could not recover from the fight ending body blow. At his weakened state, she could have done anything she wanted with him. She decided on something a little humiliating. Rearing back her head, she cracked him in the skull with a nose splitting headbutt that made his whole body shake. The Captain went limp in her grip like a puppet on a string.
Sophia descended back down to the Earth to collect the downed Machine on his hands and knees still shaken from the pro wrestling lariat she used to take him down.
She grabbed him by the pants of his red, white, and blue costume military attire and flew them back to the US aircraft carrier they sailed on. She gently dropped them onto the deck of the ship in front of a shocked and terrified crew and captain.
“They will recover,” she said. “The Captain’s ribs are cracked, so keep him straight so they have a chance to heal properly.”
With no more words, she rocketed off diving into the ocean. The USS George H.W. Bush violently shook and groaned, as everyone on deck screamed while fighting to keep their balance. Another view from a Russian class destroyer that accompanied the carrier named Sovremenny caught footage of Sophia physically lifting the 102,000 long tons vessel up a good twenty feet into the air.
She used her propulsion to twist slowly in midair, rotating the building size carrier along with her so as not to break it in half before lowering it back into the ocean. Rising from the waters once more, she grasped the rear of the ship, and with just a simple one-arm push sent it sailing like a paper boat back from whence it came never to return.
At the end of the feed, Rogers stepped back. His face was the same impenetrable stone expression, but his body language revealed the footage rocked even him.
“I don’t understand,” Abe turned to Lady Tech, “why did they send in a two man team? The Russian team is a six man crew alone.”
“Yeah that would be the logical response,” she coughed, “but the speedsters would have just got in the way, and energy based EVOs would only make it worse. She can absorb energy attacks increasing her strength.”
“How does she possess this array of abilities?” Rogers asked while one of his eyebrows raised.
“Ms. Dennison’s primary talent, which no EVO on the planet has,” Erica explained, “is the ability to not only regenerate when injured, but to build physical defenses preventing her from being hurt the same way twice. The tradeoff is she sometimes acquires powerful offensive abilities.”
“So the more you try to hurt her,” Rogers concluded, “The stronger she gets.”
“Very good,” Lady Tech nodded, “After the much failed mission, an emergency UN Security Council meeting was called in secret. By a unanimous decision, they categorized Ms. Dennison as a “force of nature,” advising no further confrontation with her under any circumstances. She can go wherever she pleases, war torn countries hold a cease-fire whenever she is in town, and Al-Qaeda and ISIS scatter like roaches when she shows up in their region. Her island will never be mapped, and a five thousand mile radius around it is designated as a no fly and sail zone. Also under the advisement of their governments, almost every major news network on the planet has agreed not to cover her. She also keeps an ultra low profile and has a cute knack for emitting a small burst electromagnetic pulse to ensure she doesn’t become a YouTube or Vine exclusive. The woman loves her privacy.”
Rogers nodded before turning back to the holographic view of her island.
“What does she do there?” he inquired.
“As you can see, she’s built an entire village and wildlife preserve for endangered species. She takes in and cares for anyone looking for sanctuary,” Erica answered while pulling up a satellite view of Sophia’s village, “the homeless, orphans, drug addicts, victims of white slavery, refugees from some of the most evil places on the planet. She takes them there, cares for them, and protects them.”
“Doesn’t sound like the actions of a cold-blooded killer,” said Rogers.
“Yeah, the whole thing stinks about that,” Erica scoffed. “If you remember, she made it all the way to CNN in Washington to declare her innocent, and ratted out our nations infamous unknown death squad known as the D.E.A.D. It’s one of the reasons why no one is lifting a finger to bring her in, on top of the fact that no one or nothing on this planet can stop her.”
“You keep saying “nothing on this planet,” Rogers observed, “as if you believe in something… off this planet.”
“Due to my own personal studies in regard to the virus, I’ve come to believe it was not created or engineered by anyone on this planet,” she snorted, “reverse engineered maybe, there are proteins and elements within it, which number in the trillions, that are clearly nowhere on any periodical chart. Unfortunately, the virus has successfully integrated itself into the human gene pool as a cell. The only way I can successfully decipher its origins is if I got a sample directly from her.”
“If you got a sample,” Rogers furrowed his brows, “what would you hope that it could tell you?”
She turned to him locking eye contact. “Who really made her who she is now, and us.”
Rogers turned narrowing his eyes as he stared up as Sophia’s profile on the big screen.
“Well, I guess you’ll want to get settled,” Erica huffed, “before the fresh meat arrives tomorrow, dinner is at 1800 hours. Maxine, what’s on the menu?”
“Stir fried night for you, and for the Sergeant’s palette I cooked up a prime rib steak, with mash potatoes, and greens,” Maxine chirpily answered.
“Angie, can you please escort the good Sergeant Rogers to his new living quarters,” Erica motioned.
“Don’t get lost.” Jennifer turned to her sister smirking.
Angie smilingly gave her sister the finger as she strolled up to him.
“This way Sergeant Rogers,” she motioned.
Abe followed her stopping to pick up his bag near the entrance way, he halted to ask Lady Tech one final question.
“How come the enrollment for this outfit was so low,” Abe furrowed his brow. “I thought the US had the second largest population of EVOs to Europe?
“Aside from you and the other three recruits picked,” she sighed, “the other six applicants that applied had psychological and personality problems that made them unfit for this team.”
“Ten in all?” he wore an uncomfortable look. “No one else applied?”
“People tend not to forget the treatment of others, and how our government dragged their asses to treat them when they ran into toxic rubble of fallen buildings to save lives at the risk of their own.” Erica took two steps toward him. “They also did not forget the lives of service men and women lost for wars that did not need to be fought. Because of that, people don’t really like our government very much these days and are less inclined to stick their necks out. That includes superhumans. The current hero community is willing to fight the good fight, just not under the banner of the US government.”
“So why are you doing this?” he asked.
“I have multiple reasons,” she smiled. “One them happens to be that like it or not we need to feel as if we can trust our government again. People need to believe that it will step up to protect us from the right people and the right situations. That’s not done if everyone just sits on their asses.”
Rogers nodded in agreement with her logic, he turned following the orange haired android leading the way to his new quarters, looking around o
nce more at his new home.
CHAPTER 6
Gatesville Women’s facility, Gatesville Texas:
Sophia sat in the courtyard examining her next move. It was her usual weekly visit. Sister Shareef had taken out her queen’s knight and king’s bishop in five moves. Her last defense for her king was her queen, a pawn, and a rook. Sister Shareef sat patiently across from her waiting for her next move attacking with two bishops, a queen’s knight, a king’s rook, and two pawns. One of them was at the end of Sophia’s board ready to become a queen.
“So, twenty-eight girls,” Sister Shareef sighed glancing upward into Sophia’s blue glowing eyes.
“Twenty-eight girls,” returned a steely Sophia not looking up from the board, “and I got all of them this time. One was working with two cracked ribs, one was pregnant and only fifteen years old; she wants to keep the baby by the way. Two have Chlamydia, one so bad it may leave her sterile because it was left untreated for so long, and one is H.I.V positive. That is on top of the mountainous psychological damage they are all going to have to endure for their rest of their lives. Day one on the island they asked to occupy four huts between twenty-eight of them, they sleep two to a bed, and they move in unison like meerkats. It’s almost adorable if you didn’t know the story behind it. What bothers me the most is how they all walk around with their heads down; they all flinch and coil at anyone who comes near them. Every night I can hear one of them waking up screaming from night terrors. That son of a bitch didn’t just break those girls… he shattered them, and now I have to put them back together.”
Shareef leaned back in her seat, now less interested in the pending victory she had secured on the board, and more with her friend’s state of mind.
“When was the last time you slept, baby girl?” Sister Shareef asked with a head tilt.
“You forgot already, sis, I don’t need to sleep,” returned Sophia with a sneer of frustration as she scanned the board. “I also don’t need to eat, drink, or breath air. I can survive the crushing depths of the ocean and the harsh cold atmosphere of space itself. If this god forsaken world ever ends it’ll be me and the friggin roaches that are left.”
“Even with all you can do now,” Shareef began her lecture, “you’re not…”
“I swear if you utter the word “super” I will slap the taste out of your mouth right here,” Sophia sternly warned.
She moved her pawn forward in disgust, the only move she had to play as Shareef now glared at her none to appreciative of the verbal threat she fired her way.
“I was going to say God, queen me,” she fired back moving her pawn to the end of the board turning her into a queen.
Sophia snarled as she took Shareef’s pawn replacing it with her captured queen rook, protected by her original queen. She moved her pawn forward again only for it to be taken out by Shareef’s king’s bishop. Sophia’s final attack was to take out the newly promoted queen, allowing Shareef to take down her queen with her own.
“Check,” snapped Shareef now focused on the game.
With her rook on the other side of her king, Sophia had no choice but to move her king forward. This allowed Shareef to move her queen across the board taking out Sophia’s rook.
“Check again,” stated Shareef knowing the end was coming.
Sophia’s eyebrow twitched as she moved her king forward again, allowing Shareef to move her queen across the board to F8 while her king’s rook sat comfortably on H1 flanking her on both sides of the board forcing her to move forward again. Shareef calmly moved her king to F1, Sophia’s only move was to advance forward again. Shareef then shifted her king’s rook left to G1.
“Check,” she sighed not looking up from the board.
Sophia returned a deeper sighed as she played her final move to H4, allowing Shareef to move her queen back to H8.
“Checkmate, and if you knock this board off the table I’m going to slap you,” Shareef sternly warned her back.
Sophia glared at an unintimidated Shareef with her arms now folded staring her down. Sophia’s face softened as she looked down at the table, although the frustration was clearly still there. Shareef leaned forward resting her forearms on the table. She reached out grabbing one of Sophia’s locks playing with it; her dreadlocked mane had grown even longer since her escape from prison almost seven years ago.
“Soph, talk to me. What is really wrong?” Shareef calmly pressed her friend.
“I had to fight, two more superhumans,” she finally said. “They were his hired muscle.”
“You didn’t have to…” Shareef cocked an eye fearing the situation had gotten fatally ugly.
“No,” Sophia shook her head, “I easily overpowered them, but they were there. They were there because of me.”
Shareef left out a huff as she put her head down.
“Soph, if you’re going to start with the ‘Diary of an Angry Black Woman’ pity party cliché shit, I can go back to my cellblock and take a nap,” Shareef said with steel like tone to her voice.
Sophia raised her head with her eye cocked a bit stunned by her friend’s remark.
“You were expecting me to whip out a tit and nurse you?” Shareef continued before Sophia could say ‘Excuse me?’ “You got a mama in New York that can do that for you, and I am personally getting tired of having to reaffirm for you every time you come here, that nothing currently going on in this crazy messed up world today is your fault. Greedy men searching for power they had no business searching for is why the world has gone from zero to shit in overdrive. You were unfortunately caught in the middle of it, and considering that you could have been rotting in a six-foot grave for a crime you didn’t commit, the world can kiss my ass! A lesser person would have let Oregon and the West Coast go up in flames after what you learned and endured, but you chose to take a nuke head on despite it all and saved millions of lives. No one has the right to blame you for anything. The Judgment Day virus is not your fault, superhumans walking the Earth is not your fault, and what happened to Bishop’s son is not your fault! You did not kill Miguel, the virus did.”
“I couldn’t save him either.” Sophia’s eyes poured glowing blue tears as she looked at her friend.
“And you weren’t meant to honey,” Shareef leaned forward, “but you gave them both something just as precious, a little more time to say goodbye.”
“In medical school they drill it into your head not to get attached,” Sophia wiped her eyes, “never to make it personal, and accept the fact that sometimes people will die even under your watch. Knowing what dying feels like has changed everything; I can’t ‘not’ feel.”
Sister Shareef sighed as she placed her hand on top of her friend’s hand to comfort her.
“A part of me wishes I died the day of my execution,” Sophia admitted. “I accidently remade the world, yet, I don’t fit in it. I thought I could pre-occupy my time by trying to help people, but this isn’t a stupid comic book! People’s lives just don’t miraculously get better because you swoop in and save that day!”
“Girl don’t you know comics ain’t what they use to be?” Sister Shareef scoffed. “I just done heard on the news that they killed off Archie. Now you know it’s some bull vine defecation when they decide to cut down little ole cute and indecisive Archie. Who’s next Snoopy?”
Her jest achieved the crack of a smile she was looking for.
“You’re right, life is not like in the comic books.” She leaned forward. “And no one expects you to live your life as if you’re in one. You of all people know even before you gained these powers, that you can’t save everyone no matter how hard you try. And maybe having them has temporary blinded you to think that you should, but you’re not all powerful, Soph. Someone else still holds that title. I know that, and Bishop definitely knows that.”
“How is she?” Sophia nervously asked.
“She’s holding up,” informed Shareef. “She has to for Annabelle and Manuel. She calls me almost every day and drives up every month to com
e see me. Shows me pictures of the latest custom she’s working on.”
“I’m glad.” Sophia managed a smile.
“She never stops talking about how her big sister gave her a garage with all the fixings,” Shareef said sternly. “She keeps asking me that last time I heard from you and how much she misses you.”
“Well, someone’s dreams should come true,” Sophia nodded. “I’ll make time to go visit her.”
“Yeah, you will,” she ordered.
Shareef spied the warden on top of one of the watchtowers. He nervously pointed to his watch letting her know time was up. She nodded in agreement.
“Well as much as I adore our weekly visits and chats, time for me to mosey on in.” Shareef began to rise to her feet.
Sophia groaned as she got to her feet as well; once again, she was looking up at Sister Shareef who now towered over her a powerful four inches. Much of the signs of age and prison hardening no longer ravaged her face, the only thing revealing her true age was her longer silver dreads.
“You know this is bull,” Sophia informed her.
“I have to set a good example for the girls,” Shareef shrugged.
“But you don’t have to stay here,” Sophia went on. “It’s not like anyone can stop you if you decided to leave, especially considering what you did was justified.”
