The First: EVO Uprising

by Kipjo Ewers

  Rosanna answered her brother’s annoying whining with an eye roll, while Oliver just shrugged his shoulders.

  Rogers walked the beach nearing the two stranglers implied by Lady Tech, the younger was Zeek yelling at an older gray-whiskered dark-skinned man sporting a bare chest with a potbelly in some knee high jeans shorts. He held onto a fishing rod trying to cast his line while shooing Zeek away. Next to him was a bucket full of tropical fish he captured prior to the team’s arrival.

  “Come on, Mr. Norton!” yelled Zeek, “we’ve got to go!”

  “For the last time, Zeek, I ain’t going anywhere!” Mr. Norton returned. “I’m trying to catch me some fish for supper tonight, and as you can see I am on a role!”

  “Mr. Norton, we can go to the other side of the island and fish!” coaxed Zeek. “It’s not safe here!”

  “Today is not the day to go fishin on the other side!” the old man forcefully returned. “Today is the day to go fishin here! And what you talkin bout not safe, you can’t get no safer than Sanctuary, except maybe Heaven itself!”

  “Mr. Norton, do you not see whose coming this way?” Zeek lost his cool again. “It’s about to be a warzone up in… oh… oh, no…”

  Rogers walked pass a smiling Mr. Norton and a nervous and frustrated Zeek.

  “Gentlemen.” Abe tipped his beanie as he walked by.

  “Hey… hey I know you,” Mr. Norton beamed, “you’re Abe Rogers right? Da Wrassler! Tell me I’m right!”

  “Yeah.” Abe turned to address him. “I was.”

  “I remember you! You probably don’t remember me! November 15, 2007 you were in Madison Square Garden.” Mr. Norton went into his story immediately, “After the show you were leaving and signing autographs… I had on one of your shirts I got at the Goodwill, and you signed it for me! Then you slipped me like a couple hundred dollars! You didn’t even look to see what was in your wallet! You just pulled it out and gave it to me… told me it wasn’t much but make sure I use it to get something to eat and stay warm… I would have been happy with just the autograph… I don’t have the money, but I still got the shirt!”

  “I remember you,” Abe cracked a rare genuine smile.

  “You ain’t come to start no trouble, right? You just come to talk to our Sophie,” Mr. Norton gestured, “cuz you just like her… a hero sent from God… to help people like me.”

  “I’m not all that,” Abe answered, “but I did just come to talk to her.”

  “Well she right over there!” Mr. Norton pointed.

  “Thank you, Mr. Norton.” Abe tipped his beanie again out of respect.

  Abe continued walking as Zeek gave him a nervous glare making it known that he did not like him.

  “What the hell, Mr. Norton!” Zeek began to admonish the old man, “Why’d you tell him where she was?”

  “Boy, hush yo mouth, and help me catch these damn fish here before I pull dat ring clear out of your nose!” the old man wagged a finger at him. “You look like a cracked out bull!”

  The two continued to argue as Rogers finally reached the construction site, slowly he walked up the steps coming into view of Sophia casually placing a piece of hardwood cherry panel next to the others she put up to create the final piece of a wall. She began to push thick eight-inch nails into the panel attaching it to the beam on the other side as if they were thumbtacks.

  “Welcome to my island Captain,” she greeted him not looking his way as she continued to work.

  “Sergeant,” he politely corrected her, “Sergeant Abraham Rogers… former United States Marines.”

  “Figured you for a Marine,” she said as she ran her hand across the panel to make sure it was secure. “My apologies… I’m not up on all the latest superhero…”

  “I’m not a superhero,” he corrected her again.

  “Super Soldier?” she innocently asked.

  “Just a soldier, ma’am,” Rogers cracked a simple smile.

  “Humble… nice,” she nodded. “Hope you don’t mind if I talk to you while I work… I want to finish all these huts before tomorrow.”

  “Not enough room,” he asked.

  “Plenty of room,” she answered. “These are for new residents.”

  Rogers watched as she grabbed a larger board laying it down and measuring it out; with her thumbnail she cut through the board like a scalpel through paper slicing it in half. She then took the board tacking it into the beam behind it as she did the last one.

  “New residence?” Abe asked looking around.

  “Yep, whoever wants to come,” she sighed motioning to the men he met, “Mr. Norton, who you just met, former Vietnam Vet… former alcoholic… homeless on the streets of Manhattan for twenty years ever since he was no longer able to work and lost his home and wife to cancer. Ezekiel Marsh from L.A, who you also met, was a former Heroine and Meth junkie… before that he was being beaten and molested by his father and older brother. We have people here from Cambodia, Iraq, Iran, Darfur, various parts of Africa, Europe, South, and North America… war refugees, homeless, drug addicts, rape victims, molested, oppressed… you name it… all get a chance to live and start a fresh clean life here.”

  “Quite an admirable undertaking,” nodded Abe.

  “Nothing admirable about this, Sergeant,” sighed Sophia while cutting some more boards. “Just good clean common sense. How many times have governments such as the US, UK, or Russia ‘intervened’ in war torn and impoverished countries to bring liberty and peace only to leave, making things a thousand times worse than when they came in? People going in and out of drug or alcohol rehab because when they reach a low point for any reason, the poison they are trying to stay away from is so easily obtainable. Then instead of being treated like people who are sick, they are locked up like animals, and their lives are forever destroyed by a system in need of a serious overhaul. One that fat geriatric bureaucrats are too lazy to fix. They can’t get a job because they have a record, and the next thing you know they’re left to die on the streets and looked upon like garbage.”

  After cutting five clean new boards, she paused to give Abe eye contact.

  “And that’s just a couple of many stories taking place in the messed up society of a world we live in,” she said. “Here in my own backyard, I control the playing field. Other than medicinal, which certified others and I administer, illegal drugs, and recreational alcohol are not allowed here, and everyone is perfectly fine with it. They can live without fear of someone raiding their village to rape and murder them or take their children away to be child soldiers. Here they can live as they were intended to live. Peacefully and like human beings.”

  “Mind if I ask how you’re funding all of this?” Rogers asked noticing that the oak wood she cut was of extremely fine quality.

  “You want to give me a donation, Sergeant?” she smirked.

  It forced him to crack another smirk.

  “Wouldn’t want your money anyway.” She gave him a wave in jest. “Let’s just say a woman with my ‘skill set’ can venture places mere mortals cannot go and make bank. Off record, I have acquired more liquid assets to dwarf, Mr. Buffet, Zuckerberg, and Ms. Winfrey combined, which is needed to run an operation like this. We use solar panels during the day and an industrial sized electrical generator at night. I also plan to order some wind turbines in the next month. We also have satellite and fiber optic connection allowing us the creature comforts like television and internet.”

  “What about education?” he asked, remembering that he saw children as they flew over the island.

  “New York State licensed from kindergarten to high school,” she answered. “Personally interviewed and triple vetted by me. They’re paid their worth as long as they come with the passion to teach, which children need. So far who I have picked has not disappointed me. This is not a one- stop of everyone Sergeant. Some people have made this place their permanent home, and they’re welcome to stay for as long as they like. For other’s it’s a way to get back on their feet, and
when they decide it’s time to leave, I ensure they remain on their feet.”

  “And if they fall again?” Rogers asked.

  “Like my mom always says,” she smirked, “you can always come home.”

  “Sounds like a model Utopia.” Abe had a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

  “There’s no such thing as a ‘model Utopia,’ she responded, ignoring the tone. “No society is perfect, and there are rules implemented and enforced by myself, and the council that I formed, and not everyone can come or stay here if they do not wish to abide by my rules. I don’t know if it’s a blessing, but in the past three and a half years, since I started this I had to remove only two people from this island. One was personally difficult to do, one wasn’t.”

  She walked over looking through the open structure of the hut still under construction giving her a clear view of the village that was a five-minute walk away.

  “In that time, I’ve seen people from all walks of life, race, religion, and nationality that were cast away, beaten, broken, and scarred heal and band together. Forming not just a community, but a family,” she smiled with pride. “People who just needed a real chance, have risen to become teachers, nurses, electricians, and as you can see construction workers. Some have made their own online businesses while here. Here the only label that matters is one of being a human being.”

  “So down with religion and culture,” Abe asked.

  “Quite the opposite,” she answered. “People here are proud of where they come from, free to practice their religion, and open to share their cultures with one another. That is because they don’t have ignorant greedy men whispering in their ear that the reason they’re poor is because of ‘those people,’ or ‘remember 9/11.’ When you treat good people equally and give them the basic rights of a decent shelter, good food, clothing, and the safety of not having a suicide bomber or drone dead leveling their home or killing their loved ones. They have more time to learn and realize that the person sitting across from them who maybe a different skin color, or maybe worship the same God just a bit differently or call Him a different name is not that different. In the end, good people want the same thing all over the world for themselves and their children. Greedy people with power and a sense of entitlement are the ones that make this world a darker place. They use their influence to turn innocent people against one another by exploiting their weaknesses and misfortune in order to fuel their own agenda. Racism, corrupted use of religion, and fear are age-old business ploys men of power use to line their pockets.”

  “Greed isn’t good,” Rogers chuckled.

  “I’d like to deck Oliver Stone for creating that stupid line,” Sophia snorted.

  She began to chuckle at her own comment, which woke Rogers up to the realization that he was having a casual conversation with a woman he watched lay out two of the most powerful Titans on the planet. In a new world were the impossible was possible, it was still hard to fathom that so much unearthly power lay in a woman with such a pleasant warm smile.

  “So Sergeant,” Sophia sighed, “let’s cut to the chase, shall we? You didn’t fly all the way here from the states to admire my artisanship, or listen to my worldviews. I assume based on whatever file you have on me it’s not to ask for my surrender, so it’s either to enlist my services or for something else… which is it?”

  “I did come here to enlist your services,” Rogers smirked, “but it’s for something else.”

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Back at the Tornado, a restless male Esposito paced the sand contemplated what was taking Rogers so long as the rest of his teammates casually stood around waiting for the Sergeant’s return.

  “What is this shit?” snarled Adrian. “Standing here with our thumbs up our asses when we should be dragging this bitch out in restraints, not talking to her.”

  “What part of a ‘recon’ mission do you not get, Limp?” Erica sighed. “And attempting to ‘drag her out in restraints’ would be just rude considering she extended us the same courtesy of not knocked us out of the sky before we got within a hundred miles of this place.”

  “I’ve read the debriefings,” Rosann interjected in the conversation. “It’s still kind of hard to believe… I mean… about whom she is.”

  “EVO Zero, also known as the Source and proverbial birth mother of all EVOs on the planet,” Lady Tech recited, “possessing god-like superhuman strength, speed, durability, and stamina. She has the ability of flight and possesses energy on what is calculated to be on a bio-nuclear level that can sustain all her functions indefinitely meaning she doesn’t need to eat, sleep, or even breathe normal air… for all intents and purposes she’s a fully functional immortal.”

  “So she’s a bit “tough,” Adrian gave a dismissive gesture, “like the Sarge said, everyone has a weakness.”

  “And you’ve figured out how to take down ‘Mom,’” Rosann scoffed, “in the thirty-five minutes we’ve been standing here?”

  Hard-On gave his sister the look she knew indicating that he had an idea, forcing her to run her hand down her face indicating that whatever he was thinking was a bad idea.

  “Adrian… no…” she whispered, “no!”

  “You haven’t even heard my plan yet!” he yelled back.

  “If your plan involves going against what the Sergeant told us not to do,” she lectured, “it’s a bad idea.”

  “Recon means to gather information, correct? Which means we’re eventually going to have to go to blows with her.” Adrian attempted to reason with his sister. “So why not use the element of surprise to take her out while we’re here? Based on what little Miss Poindexter…”

  “Bite me…” Erica blurted out.

  Adrian ignored her remark while continuing to reason with his sister and Oliver.

  “Source or not she’s still an EVO just like us no matter how powerful she is. What would happen if you were to touch her?”

  The prospect of gaining the power of the Source was enough to make Rosann pause and think her brother’s idea was not too stupid.

  “And how, pray tell, do you intend to get her close enough to touch her ‘genius’?” Erica butted in.

  “With the help of our man Blitz over here,” he gestured. “Rosann touches him gaining the ability to fly at the speed of lightning, and while we’re distracting her, Rosann moves in close enough to touch her gaining her powers, and then we just triple team and beat her ass into submission, dragging her home in restraints.”

  “Somehow this feels more complicated than you’re making it sound.” Rosann frowned unsure of her brother’s plan.

  “Like the intel you forgot about how she can drain energy wielding EVOs like me increasing her strength, “Oliver finally butted in. “I would be like a power bar to her.”

  “And I don’t remember telling anyone I created anything that could restrain the likes of her,” Erica followed up.

  “Alright, let’s cut the shit!” Adrian howled. “We got an opportunity to take down the most powerful EVO on the planet today! It all comes down to us hitting her first!

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Back at the hut, the conversation between Rogers and Sophia continued as she leaned up against the doorway with her arms folded attempting to wrap her brain around his request.

  “You want me… to help you train your team?” she raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” he said plainly.

  “I take it you didn’t get authorization for this request.” She gave a head tilt.

  “I didn’t even ask for authorization to fly here,” he shrugged.

  “Why me?” she shrugged back narrowing her eyes.

  “I am currently in command of a four person team that is supposed to be the United States’ answer to this new brewing Cold War if you want to call it.” He snorted. “Our other job which I was informed on the day of orientation was
to also handle domestic threats that arise.”

  “That’s a lot of responsibility,” she nodded.

  “Aside from me, all four of my other team members just came off the tit,” he sighed, “but despite being a bunch of snot nose brats, they’re good kids with a hard work ethic. I owe it to them to equipment them in any way possible to make sure they don’t get killed.”

  “Then maybe you should advise them to quit Sergeant,” she coughed, “if we’re being honest I’m not a real fan of my fellow superhumans and less of a fan of “super heroes.”

  “Something we have in common,” he smirked, “but I’m not trying to create super heroes. I’m trying to make soldiers.”

  “Doesn’t make your argument any better,” she sighed.

  She turned looking out into the white sanded beach she created.