The First: EVO Uprising

by Kipjo Ewers

  Rosann waited for the ‘but.’

  “You were expecting some moral high ground speech from me?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not naïve.” Rosann looked down at her feet. “I know there are evil people out there who do cruel things.”

  “It’s a whole different story when you see that actual evil face to face,” Sophia finished her next sentence.

  “They just killed them,” her eyes misted, “without even a thought. Like their lives meant nothing.”

  “Awhile back in the Sudan,” Sophia sighed, “there was a known warlord known as the Sand Lion. Like all warlords in that region, he raided villages, raped women and little girls, murdered the men, and recruited the children, mostly the boys as soldiers in his army. Usually he would force the children to shoot their parents as a display of allegiance to him. During one of his raids he tried to force a twelve-year-old boy by the name of Pubudu to shoot his mother. Pubudu’s mother, full of tears, told him to kill her so that he would live. Pubudu instead decided to throw down the AK-47 given to him and stand up to the Sand Lion in front of his entire village and regime.”

  Rosann turned to Sophia listening attentively to the heroic tale.

  “Now, normally the Sand Lion would answer such an act of brazen defiance by shooting or beheading with a machete,” a steeled Sophia continued, “instead he decided to get creative on that day and send a very lasting message. He took four of his American and Soviet Cold War jeeps, tied them to each of Pubude’s small limbs, and proceeded to draw and quarter him in front of his mother and everyone else still alive. He and his regime then raped and sodomized his mother into madness for almost six hours straight in front of his dismembered corpse.”

  New tears fell from Rosann’s eyes as she cupped her mouth after hearing the horrid tale. Sophia’s visage did not even flinch after telling it.

  “Those animals downstairs,” Sophia said, “are still a rarity in this world. Monsters like the Sand Lion have been walking this Earth for centuries. And the only time we give a damn is when it’s happening in our own backyard.”

  “What happened to Pubudu’s mother?” Rosann’s voice quivered.

  “I had to pry her son’s dismembered corpse from her arms and bury him,” Sophia answered. “Then I hunted down the Sand Lion, destroyed his entire regime, while liberating the child soldiers under his captive. I then broke both his arms and legs and shattered his ribcage, collapsing his lungs. I left him to die in agonizing pain either choking on his own blood or succumbing to pneumothorax. Six weeks later Pubudu’s mother succumbed to her madness and was found drowned in a nearby lake bed.”

  “How do you keep doing this?” Rosann shook her head.

  “If you’re looking for super hero advice,” Sophia sighed, “again, you’re talking to the wrong person.”

  “You don’t like superheroes.”

  “I think many of them are glorified fan boys and girls living out their wet dreams in real life.” Sophia cut her eyes. “The world doesn’t need people like us causing mass destruction while fighting for peace, justice, and the America way.”

  “What does it need?” she asked.

  Sophia focused charging her right hand until a blue glow of pure energy formed around it. She used it to stroke her braids drying out the excess water from them.

  “You may not know this, but I have an older brother,” Sophia smirked. “Growing up, he was known as the “little gentle giant.” He was tall and a bit heavy set. He loved dinosaurs, comic books, and things that had to do with science fiction like Star Wars and Star Trek, and he loved to read; even to this day. He was just an all around geek at a time when being one wasn’t cool.

  “The thing that was adorable about him, made him the subject of ridicule in school,” Sophia sighed, “especially at the hands of this one kid named Mitch Jackson, who was half my brother’s size. Every day he would find a way to taunt my brother, who was not violent by nature, saying some very nasty and hurtful things to the point it would bring him to tears. My brother would go to the teacher and principal, who did very little to stop the obvious bullying. It would stop for a day two, but then Mitch would start again with a vengeance because my brother told on him.”

  A hint of anger appeared on her face, which made Rosann a bit nervous, but quickly disappeared as she went on to tell her story.

  “One day my brother came home and asked my mother what a faggot was. My mom was shocked that he knew such a word and explained to him what it meant, and then asked him where he heard this word. He then went on to tell her how Mitch would call him this name several times, especially during lunchtime, because he was always reading his novels. Now my mother, being a God fearing woman, always encouraged us not to fight, but on that day the nasty Jamaican side of her was awaken. And she instructed my gentle, yet very large, brother that the next time Mitch Jackson dared opened his mouth and call him that name again, he was to ball up his fist, and deck him right in the face. She told him that he might hit him back, but to make sure he got one good one in so that the next time he even thought about uttering that name; he’d think twice.”

  The smirk on Sophia’s face told Rosann what happened next.

  “Like a creature of habit, ole Mitch walked up to my brother after school in front of me and my little sister, and said, ‘What’s up faggot?’ To which my big, gentle brother who had never thrown a punch before, balled up his near man size fist, and decked that little shit dropping him on his ass.” She began to laugh. “Both him and Mitch were taken to the principal’s office. My mother came to find me and my little sister crying because we thought Anthony was in big trouble. When we told her what happened, she did not even bat an eyelash. She walked right into the school, into Mr. Callahan’s office, looked at my older brother who sat quietly waiting for her, and a sobbing Mitch who had a black eye the size of a baseball; the first words out of her mouth in front of Mr. Callahan to my brother was, ‘You got him good, right?’ A displeased Mr. Callahan, who threatened to have my brother either suspended or expelled, was met with the order from my mother to hand over all three of our transcripts, out right admitting that she commanded my brother to knocked Mitch Jackson out if he ever called him that name again, and then asking our principal how he could stand by an allow a child to use such disgusting language in a Catholic school, of all places and where did he learn it from. In the end, my brother was never suspended or expelled, Mitch Jackson never called him that name or any other name after that, they even became very good friends. The ‘gentle giant’ was left alone and respected from that day on.”

  “Doesn’t sound any different from how I grew up.” Rosann shrugged. “What does it have to pertain to what happened today?”

  “I think it’s fairly obvious,” Sophia said with blunt sternness, “in order to obtain absolute peace, to really stop evil from running rampant, people have to be broken and humbled. Today’s ‘superhero’ remind me of Mr. Callahan. They raise their voice, do a little scolding, maybe give you a couple hours of detention, but do nothing to effect permanent lasting change. History has dictated that the only time humans take each other seriously is through a show of decisive and brutal force. Sometimes we shall overcome is not enough, sometimes you got to clobber them with some ‘Fight the Power’ for them to understand not to screw with you.”

  “So why haven’t you decided to make that permanent change?” Roxann asked. “You have the power.”

  “I do have the power,” she smirked. “I just don’t want the headache that goes with it. People constantly trying to find a way to kill me, going after people I care about, I’d end up dead leveling the planet. Who wants that drama? I prefer the hidden silent truce I have with myself and current world leaders. They leave me alone, and I leave the world alone. I help who I want, when I want, my own way, and the rest of the world is left to its own devices to figure their crap out amongst themselves.”

  “So what should I do?” Rosann’s eyes revealed she was begging for some guidance
.

  “What you feel is in your best interest,” Sophia shrugged. “And whatever consequences you feel you can handle. Walk away and never have to see anything like what you saw in Times Square ever again, and no one would blame you for that. Stay, knowing that you are forever locked in the ‘Neverending Battle’ and with the knowledge that there could quite possibly be more scenes like what happened in Times Square and maybe worse. The question that only you can answer at the end of the day, ‘Is what I am doing making a difference and is it worth it? Do the ends justify the means, and can I sleep at night knowing that.’”

  “Does it for you?” she asked.

  “Honestly,” she shrugged again, “I really don’t know. Like I said I’m no hero, so my actions are usually decisive and brutal, and I don’t need to sleep.”

  Maxine’s android form strolled in interrupting their conversation.

  “Ms. Dennison, your new suit is ready,” she reported. “I will take you to one of our vacant rooms to change.”

  “Thank you,” she nodded.

  Sophia sprung to her feet. Stretching, she adjusted her bath towel before it slipped, as Rosann looked down at the floor again processing what she had said to her.

  “What I want you to take away from Pubudu’s story,” Sophia began to say without looking at her. “Is not the tragedy of his end, but his courage to take a stand at such a young age even in the face of such a horrible death. He could have shot his mother like other children did and lived, no one would have blamed him. He did not have any powers or abilities like we do, but he took a stand nonetheless. I honestly don’t think I would have had the guts to do what he did, especially at his age. How sad is it that people like Pubudu with no power have that type of courage, and people with real power don’t. We pick and choose fights to get into because it’s profitable or because someone attacked us in our backyard. We compromise with monsters because they’re the enemy of our enemy. I don’t know if anything I do these days makes any difference. What I do know, is I owe it to that kid to at least try.”

  She walked away, following Maxine to get dressed. Rosann watched her leave, and then sat there contemplating the next steps of her own life.

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  Within the men’s locker room her brother sat on a similar metal bench with the same transfixed stare she had before Sophia walked in on her.

  Unknown even to himself, he had transformed into the metal composition of the bench. He sat crushing parts of it that he clutched in his grip. Oliver walked in on him dawning a face of concern.

  “Adrian. Adrian are you okay?” He walked up to him. “Adrian!”

  “Huh?” he woke up from his dazed looking up.

  “Dude, you okay?” You’re transformed and destroying the bench.”

  Realizing what he was doing he released the bench and reverted back to his regular form.

  “You okay, man?” he pressed. “You want to talk?”

  “I’m… uh… fine.” He shook his head. “Just need a shower.”

  “You already took a shower. You came out before me.”

  He sprung to his feet, adjusting his towel.

  “I’m going to take another one.” He looked everywhere but Oliver’s eyes. “I’ll see you in a while.”

  Oliver stood there respecting his friend’s wish not to pry any further knowing he was not all right. None of them would ever be all right after what they had witnessed.

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

  Back at Erica’s lab, Rogers walked in still in his battle worn bodysuit as she sat in her chair studying a holographic analyses of Sophia.

  “Is that what I think it is?” asked Rogers.

  “A sub-atomic scan of Ms. Dennison,” Erica confirmed. “I got it while Maxine took the measurements for her uniform.”

  “Isn’t that kind of underhanded?” he asked with a semi disapproving tone.

  “Technically, I’ve been studying her from a far for a while,” she answered. “She leaves a bio signature every time she takes flight. This is just confirming my suspicions.”

  “What’s that?” he asked inquisitively.

  “Our girl runs on a form of bio nuclear energy,” she sighed. “Each one of her cells is outputting enough energy to light up New York City for a decade, maybe even more.”

  “All that from one bomb?” Abe stood mystified.

  “Nope,” she clarified, “the bomb was one of the catalysts transforming her into an energy feeder, the upper layer of her skin’s cell structure is similar to chloroplasts in plant life creating a form of photosynthesis, but at a much high rate, like a trillion times more. Physical contact with raw energy works just as well; she’s like an energy vampire. As I suspected, her immune system is monstrously second to none. Zero radiation emission, her blood is the closest thing to Red Mercury that I’ve ever seen.”

  “Packs the same amount of power without the fallout,” interjected Rogers.

  “The Padawan is learning,” smiled Lady Tech.

  “So her main power source is solar, nuclear, and electrical,” concluded Abe.

  “Correction, her source of energy is anything within the thermal, electrical, electromagnetic, and nuclear family,” Erica corrected. “And she’s been packing on the calories for a good five years. I calculate she’s generating ten times the output of a blue star.”

  “Would it be stupid for me to ask how is that even possible?” Abe asked.

  “In this day and age, yeah,” Erica chuckled. “But for the scientific answer, why does a lioness hunt and eat wildebeest, zebras, buffalo, and warthogs?”

  “Because food is food in the animal kingdom,” Rogers answered.

  “Give the man a gold star,” Erica nodded.

  “What about our golden friend?” Rogers asked.

  “The Egyptian.” She shook her head bringing up his image. “No damn clue.”

  “He’s not a superhero?” Rogers furrowed his brows.

  “I can’t pull a video, news, or even YouTube footage of him from anywhere. I don’t even think he’s an EVO.”

  “Say what?” Abe moved in closer.

  “From what I can determine,” she explained, “the energy I picked up was not coming from him but the staff and the armor he wore.”

  “Maybe he’s a Promethean like you,” he deduced.

  “I would believe that, if this didn’t happen.” She smirked with a bit of nervousness and fascination in her voice. “In the couple of minutes we had before all hell broke loose again, Maxine tried an intensified scan of his armor and got this.”

  A holographic wave file played as the audio system within the lab emitted a disturbing voice that did not seem human, speaking a language Rogers had never heard before.

  “What is that?” Rogers asked.

  “Breaking it down, each word comes from languages that have not been spoken in centuries. I’m picking up Ancient Egyptian, Sumerian, Akkadian, and Q’eqchi’. Maxine was able to lock onto where the sound originated from, which was the staff.”

  “The staff was talking?” Rogers tried to wrap his brain around what she was saying. “What did it say?”

  “End communication, or suffer the consequences,” she translated. “Maxine decided best to heed its warning.”

  “Who or what the hell are we dealing with?” he asked while staring at the visual of the Egyptian.

  “The only thing that I can wrap my brain around that comes even close to this is an Ancient Mesopotamian religion, that’s also been the discussion and wet dream of every UFO chaser and sci-fi conspiracy theorist.”

  With a wave of her hand she threw up various pictures and texts for Rogers to see.

  “They’re called the Anunnaki,” she explained with a face of disbelief. “Some believe they are deities, others believe their an ancient race of aliens that came to Earth to study and intermingle with humans.”<
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  “You’re joking right?” Rogers narrowed his eyes. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “Dude, I’ve got masters degrees out the wahzoo, and I deal in facts.” She turned to him. “The fact is the energies Mr. Dark and Golden was channeling and manipulating based on these readings are on a cosmic level. I’m talking 13.8 billion years old Big Bang theory level. We have ways to attempt to detect and study such energy, create theoretical models of it, but to harness and channel it, especially in such a small package? I can’t do that. I couldn’t even come up with a theory of how to do it either.”

  They both wore looks of mirrored concern.

  “Miss,” interrupted Maxine, “I am escorting Ms. Dennison back to your lab in her new suit. We will be there in two minutes.”

  With another swipe, Erica quickly closed out her screens as Maxine escorted Sophia back into her lab. The newly created two-piece outfit appeared as if it was second skin. Rogers, who usually kept a titanium military demeanor, bowed his head looking the other way so as not to appear as if he was ogling her.