Omega Superhero Box Set

by Darius Brasher

  If not me, who? Truman and Isaac only knew about what Mechano had done because I told them. Other than me, the only other person with direct, non-hearsay knowledge of Mechano’s foul deeds was Hacker. I would not hold my breath on her acting against Mechano. She didn’t use her powers to fight crime. She worked for some big tech firm in Seattle. Though she had never come right out and said so, I was under the strong impression that the only reason Hacker had pursued her license was so she could legally cash in on the use of her Metahuman ability to communicate with computers. Besides, maybe it was just as well Hacker did not plan on being a crime-fighter. She had not even known who Spider-Man was until I told her during the Trials. Though Spider-Man was not real, a Hero really ought to know something about the mythology of superheroes. A Hero not knowing about Spider-Man was like a writer not knowing about Shakespeare’s plays.

  Though Hacker was not interested in the justice-seeking component of being a Hero, I was. With that being the case, how could I let this opportunity to act against Mechano pass me by? How had the Old Man put it years ago when I had been in his Heroic Feats, Ethics, and Theory class at the Academy? “A hero is someone who sees what must be done, and he or she tries to do it regardless of the personal cost.” That definition had sounded right to me then, and it still sounded right to me now.

  As much as it pained me, trying to bring Hannah, Hammer, and my parents back to life would have to wait. I had an oath to live up to, and a responsibility to shoulder.

  “Why has Mechano tried to kill me?” I finally asked Cassandra.

  The images in my mind reordered themselves, like a deck of cards being rapidly shuffled. I caught quick glimpses of them. Though they started off as blurry and out of focus, each became clearer as it flashed by. I saw Omega Man, the greatest Hero the world has ever known, flying straight through the side of the V’Loth mothership in his successful attempt to kill the aliens’ queen and stop their invasion in the 1960s. I saw Omega Man’s statue on top of the Heroes’ Guild National Headquarters building in Washington, D.C. I saw me and Neha flying toward the building years ago for the Trials and talking about the legend that Omega Man would return when the planet faced another great threat. I saw Avatar being shot and killed, the bullet somehow piercing his impenetrable skin. I saw a group of costumed Rogues sitting around a conference table, planning and scheming about something with worldwide implications. I saw me and the Three Horsemen in the college bathroom the day my powers first manifested. The football players were flung violently off me and through the air thanks to my telekinesis. I saw Millennium, Seer, and Mechano talking inside Sentinels Mansion. They were talking about me. I saw my father, consumed by the fire Iceburn had set.

  Finally, I saw Omega Man’s smoldering body after he had sacrificed himself to destroy the V’Loth queen. The omega symbol emblazoned on the front of his costumed chest rose from his body, white hot, like a phoenix from ashes. It zoomed toward my mind’s eye, blotting out everything else with its brightness.

  With the omega symbol burning in my mind, Cassandra spoke, answering my question about Mechano.

  “Because you are the reincarnation of Omega Man,” she said.

  15

  The cold wind blew in my face as I stood alone on top of the UWant Building. I wore my Kinetic costume and mask. I was supposed to be on patrol. What I was actually doing was being in a funk. The beauty of nighttime Astor City stretched out below me. The view barely registered. My mind was too busy reeling from what Cassandra had told me yesterday. Since then, I had been in a stupefied haze of shock and disbelief.

  You are the reincarnation of Omega Man. Cassandra’s words rang in my head like a clarion call. How could it be true? I did not feel like someone’s reincarnation. I just felt like me, the same jumble of doubts and insecurities and uncertainty. I was nothing special. I was just a farm boy from South Carolina. A farm boy with superpowers, sure, but a farm boy nonetheless. Omega Man was the greatest Hero the world had ever known. Omega Man and Theodore Conley did not belong in the same sentence, much less in the same person. Yes, we were both Heroes, but that was where the similarities ended. The fact that a mouse and a lion were both animals did not mean they were the same thing.

  The whole idea was ludicrous. Cassandra must be wrong. It must be a mistake.

  “I don’t make mistakes,” she had sniffed when I had suggested that to her yesterday. After she had dropped her Omega Man bombshell, her eyes had immediately turned back to normal, as if a switch had been flipped. I had been abruptly pulled back into reality and out of the image-rich dreamland I had been in. Cassandra was still in my lap, again as big, busty, and young as she had been when I first had laid eyes on her. She had no memory of what she had seen and told me during the time her eyes had gone black. She still knew I was a Hero, of course, having gleaned that with her rudimentary telepathic powers before we had even gone downstairs. She said she would not tell anyone. “It’s part of the service,” she had said when I had asked her to keep my secret. She had seemed insulted I would even ask.

  Regardless of Cassandra’s assurances that her powers were never wrong, all day I had been trying to convince myself there was a mistake, a glitch in the matrix somewhere. But, despite my efforts to talk myself into believing otherwise, in my heart I knew there was no mistake. The images Cassandra had conjured up in my mind, while bizarre, had been real. I knew in my gut they were. They were what Cassandra had based her answer to my question on. And if those images were real, that meant Cassandra was right about me.

  I had not told either Truman or Isaac what Cassandra had said. I was too busy processing the shock of it to go around telling people about it. Besides, maybe they would not believe me. I could scarcely believe it myself.

  I had gone to Cassandra looking for answers. The answer I got had led to a slew of brand-new ones. If I really was Omega Man, what did that mean? Urban legend said that Omega Man would return if the Earth faced an existential crisis again. If I was the return of Omega Man, did that mean the Earth was in danger? The world was certainly in a mess. Climate change, pollution of the air and water, Rogues like Puma running amok, people exploiting, subjugating, and killing others because they looked or worshipped differently . . . the list of problems went on and on. However, based on all the history I had studied during my Heroic training, the world did not seem like a bigger mess now than it always has been. Men have always been men, with all the savagery interspersed with moments of brilliance and transcendental beauty that entailed. Evolutionarily speaking, we modern humans were no different than our ancient ancestors. Like Truman had said on the drive to Areola 51, our bodies and minds were Stone Age hardware and software in an Information Age setting. If I, as Omega Man, was supposed to save the planet, what in the world was I supposed to save it from that was new? Reality television?

  I had a hard enough time running my own life. Dad was dead because of me. I had completely botched handling Antonio, leading to Hannah’s death. If the fate of the world rested on my shoulders, I should get a tombstone and carve on it Planet Earth: Rest In Peace right now.

  So many unanswered questions. If I was Omega Man, what did Mechano have against him/me? In addition to being the greatest Hero of all time, Omega Man had been one of the founding members of the Sentinels in the 1940s. I would think that Mechano, one of the modern Sentinels, would want to shake the hand of one of the team’s founders, not try to kill him.

  The biggest unanswered question of them all: If I really was the reincarnation of Omega Man, why me? Why not someone worthier? I was just a guy from the sticks with an unfortunate tendency to screw the pooch. I had gotten Dad and Hannah killed. I had cheated on the Trials. I couldn’t even get Neha to love me. If I were to pick someone to be Omega Man, I certainly would not pick me. The Old Man was wise; Athena was a badass; Truman was tough and experienced; Isaac had a heart of gold; Neha was ruthless. The world was chock-full of better candidates to be Omega Man than I was.

  “Why me?” I asked aloud. Th
e gusting wind picked up in intensity, as if in response. Unfortunately for me, I could only break wind. I didn’t speak it too.

  Add thinking of stupid fart jokes to the list of reasons why me being Omega Man was ridiculous.

  I had tried to ask Cassandra all the questions I had about being the reincarnation of Omega Man. She had cut me off.

  “I couldn’t answer any of your questions even if you owned the UWant Building and signed its deed over to me,” she had said. “My powers have strict limits. Think of them as a well that goes dry after you drink from it. No double-dipping. If you want a lap dance, on the other hand, that I can accommodate you with.” I took a pass on the lap dance, of course. Areola 51 had completely turned me off the strip club experience. Besides, what Cassandra had revealed to me had driven women and sex completely out of my mind. That was a feat I would have thought impossible before yesterday. Then again, I would have thought me being Omega Man was impossible before yesterday, too. What a difference a single day could make. Who would have guessed that discovering you were a reincarnated version of a Hero who had been dead for over fifty years would turn your libido completely off? I don’t recommend it as a form of birth control, however. The shock of it is too hard on your heart.

  Why me? I thought again.

  Why not you? came the immediate response from my subconscious. It sounded like a Jamesism, though I had never heard him say that particular one before. Perhaps it was my own creation. I was channeling Dad more than I was channeling Omega Man. Perhaps Cassandra had gotten her wires crossed and the correct answer scrambled. Maybe that was understandable. Communicating with people in the afterlife had to be the longest possible long-distance call.

  I needed answers. Standing on top of this building, brooding, and making unfunny jokes about communicating with the dead were not providing any. The problem was I did not know who had the answers I wanted.

  No, that was not right. I knew exactly who I could ask. What was it Truman had said about Cassandra before we went inside Areola 51? “Short of asking Mechano directly, asking her is the quickest way to find out what Mechano’s beef with you is,” he had said.

  Mechano. I could ask Mechano. At a minimum, he could tell me what he had against Omega Man. The best-case scenario was that he could answer every single one of my questions. If he was not willing to answer my questions voluntarily, I could turn his metallic body into a junk heap until he did. He was long overdue for a good pounding. He had tried to kill me, after all.

  I shook my head at my sudden chutzpah. I had let all these months pass being too fearful to confront Mechano directly. Suddenly, after one conversation with a stripper, I was thinking about swaggering into Sentinels Mansion like I owned the place and beating on Mechano like he was a street punk instead of a world-renowned Hero and inventor. What crazy idea would get into my head if I made it a habit to hang out with strippers? I’d challenge Satan to a wrestling match, probably.

  The UWant Building’s aircraft warning light mounted on a pole behind me blinked on and off. It bathed me in red as I thought. I tried to talk myself out of the birdbrained idea of confronting Mechano. Even if I was Omega Man, that did not mean I was somehow miraculously as powerful as he had been. I had the same power set and power levels today that I had before I had even heard of Cassandra. Mechano was still a member of the world’s greatest Hero team. I had seen televised footage of him in action. Before I learned he had tried to kill me, watching his exploits had been inspirational. Now, the thought of them was terrifying. Learning I was Omega Man had not deluded me into thinking I could take Mechano on and prevail. Years from now maybe, once my powers reached their full potential and I had more experience. But now? Despite my earlier bravado, Mechano was far more likely to turn me into a junk heap than the other way around.

  On the other hand, if it was true that Omega Man would return when the world was at risk again, didn’t I have an obligation as a duly sworn licensed Hero to find out as much as I could about the potential threat? I had failed Dad and Hannah already. I had no interest in failing everybody else as well.

  Besides, it was not as though I had a better idea. I had obsessed about Mechano for months. After all that thinking about him, it was unlikely I would suddenly have an eureka moment later and come up with a better plan than the one I had now. And even if I somehow came up with the perfect plan in the future, I wanted answers now. If the world really was at risk, perhaps I needed them now. What was it General Patton had said? “A good plan, violently executed now, is better than a perfect plan next week.”

  Then again, Patton was the same guy who slapped a wounded soldier and accused him of cowardice while the soldier was in his hospital bed. Maybe Patton wasn’t the best of role models. Maybe the more relevant question was “What would Omega Man do?” WWOMD. It didn’t roll off the tongue. I needed to step up my acronym game.

  Though I did not know how to create good acronyms about Omega Man, I did know he would not stand up here doing his best indecisive gargoyle impersonation like I was. Based on everything I knew about the man, I knew what he would do. He would do what he needed to do to get answers.

  I rose into the air, off the roof of the UWant Building. I moved quickly, before my quaking insides talked me into changing my mind.

  I rocketed off to the north, toward the outskirts of town.

  Toward Sentinels Mansion.

  16

  A short while later, I cautiously slowed to a stop high in the air above the sprawling property just outside of Astor City that contained Sentinels Mansion. I took stock. Sentinels Way, the road leading to the mansion, was directly below. The face of the mansion was lit up by spotlights so brightly that the four-story white edifice was hard to look at.

  Nothing had happened since I had entered the mansion’s restricted airspace. In continuation of the nothing happening, the grounds in front of the mansion were completely quiet, devoid of all activity. Though the grounds were closed to the public now because it was nighttime and after touring hours, I had expected to see armed guards on patrol. However, the usually ever-present white and blue uniformed guards that made up the Sentinels’ security force were nowhere to be seen.

  I had a force field up around myself, ready for any and everything. My mind was ready to lash out with my powers at the slightest hint of an attack. All my senses were at high alert. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I surveyed the complete and unbroken stillness below and around me. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. And it was not even the night before Christmas.

  I was wrong before when I thought I was ready for anything. I was not ready for this, the complete absence of anything. The fact that nothing had happened since I entered Sentinels’ airspace unnerved me more than if missiles were being lobbed at me. Everyone who knew anything about the Sentinels knew that violation of their property’s restricted airspace was usually met with swift and blinding violence. Sentinels Mansion was said to be better defended than any other structure in the country except for the White House, whose defenses had been beefed up to make it perhaps the most secure building in the world after the Rogue Trident assassinated President Greenleaf a few years ago.

  The last Rogue who had thought it was a good idea to mount an assault on Sentinels Mansion from the air had gotten a rude awakening. Almost a decade ago, Scimitar had been shot at by gun turrets, surface to air missiles, and lasers. Deciding the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze, he had retreated to lick his wounds and regrow the hair the lasers had singed off. The Sentinels had released online the footage of Scimitar being repulsed by the mansion’s defenses. A video was worth a thousand warnings. No one had dared to fly into the mansion’s airspace without permission since then. The Scimitar video was a very violent reminder to everyone that you encroached on the Sentinels’ property at your peril. It was rumored that even nuclear weapons protected Sentinels Mansion, but no one outside the Sentinels knew for sure. I always thought those rumors were baloney. Sentinels Mansion was way too close
to Astor City for the team to risk setting off a nuclear blast.

  None of the property’s defenses, nuclear or otherwise, attacked me. If I had not seen the footage of Scimitar being blasted with my own eyes, I might have thought the reports of the Sentinels’ defenses were as much of an urban legend as the nuclear weapons were. No alarms wailed at my presence. No one’s voice was raised in alarm. The lack of a response to my presence was unnerving. The only sounds were the insistent chirping of cicadas and the faint hooting of owls from the large forest adjoining the mansion.

  I once read that hearing an owl’s hoot meant that bad luck and death were ahead. I knew it was just a silly superstition. Nonetheless, a sense of foreboding started in the pit of my stomach and spread through the rest of my body like a fevered chill. Sometimes I wished I had never learned to read.

  The woods surrounding the mansion stretched out for miles. The wooded area that composed much of the Sentinels’ property was one of the largest urban forests in the country. Thick, tall, black metal fencing enclosed the non-wooded part of the property that contained the mansion itself. The fencing stretched between dark granite pillars which were sunk into the ground every thirty feet or so. A small guardhouse and security checkpoint was next to the fence’s only entrance, which was directly across Sentinels Park from the front door of the mansion. As Sentinels Mansion was a major tourist attraction, during the day members of the public waited in line outside the fence’s entrance to be cleared by security to tour Sentinels Park and the small portion of the mansion itself which was open to the public. I had stood in that line a few times myself. I had previously visited the mansion in civilian garb in the hopes of learning something that would help me figure out what action to take against Mechano. During the day there would also be protesters picketing and yelling in a designated protest area on the other side of Sentinels Way, just as there had been at Guild headquarters in Washington, D.C. when I had shown up for the Trials. Some people thought Heroes were more public menaces than public protectors. Maybe Mechano had tried to kill them too. We should form a support group.