Generation Next: A Superhero Adventure (The Pantheon Saga Book 3)

by C. C. Ekeke

  A young Amaranthine walked up, scrawny and thick-haired, with Skylord in tow. “Excuse me, Tigre. This is Solomon Shen I told you about?” He gestured at the chiseled man. Despite his frame, Solomon Shen had adopted an almost timid demeanor, eyes darting around in terror.

  Rodrigo’s eyes lit up. “He was one of the Carneiros gladiators. Like me and Greyson.”

  Tigre approached Solomon with compassionate eyes. “Call me Marcos.” He extended a hand.

  For a long moment, Solomon eyed the outstretched hand like it was poisonous. Then he relaxed and finally accepted the handshake. “I need your help.”

  Frostknife opened her mouth to dismiss this. Tigre silenced her with a two-fingered swipe. “Tell me.”

  Solomon looked haggard and desperate, two words Greyson never thought he’d associated with him. “I have a younger sister. Carolina,” he explained. Fear dominated his muscular and shirtless physique, which Connie watched with great interest. “Did you see her in Bellazul or San Lorenzo?”

  Tigre glanced at Frostknife for confirmation before answering. “No, son. We didn’t.”

  Greyson gulped hard, knowing how Solomon currently felt. But the former Skylord didn’t appear discouraged. “I have to know if she’s dead or alive.” His words held an older sibling’s love. “I just…have to.”

  Greyson forced himself not to think of his own sister. Her grief for a murdered father, hatred for her fugitive brother.

  Frostknife approached the emotionally wounded Solomon. “Join us in fighting these tyrants,” the Canadian superhero encouraged, “and we will learn what happened to Carolina.”

  While Tigre and Solomon walked away to speak further, Frostknife turned her gaze on Greyson. “Connie told us about what you’re capable of. You would be a huge asset in our revolution.” With that, she and Rodrigo walked off in the opposite direction after receiving a call about a situation in the Dorado’s mines. Two elite families had barricaded themselves inside a silver mine with a detachment of private security.

  Now it was just Greyson with Connie, to his relief. She took his hands. By her face, he knew what Connie was about to ask.

  “I know you want to escape from all this,” Connie began with a tentative smile. “But what if you considered helping AmeriForce—”

  “I’m in,” Greyson answered before she could finish. He knew his answer after hearing about Summerhill. “Whatever it takes to defeat these royal wannabes.”

  Connie stared back for a long, wary moment. “Really?”

  Greyson nodded. This was the surest and most inspired he’d felt in months. “You and I will probably never be able to return to the US. Don’t you see, Connie?” He cupped his stunned friend’s face in his hands, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “This is our chance.”

  “Our chance at what?” Connie whispered, infected by his excitement.

  “Redemption.” Greyson’s smile broadened as his heart swelled. “Write a new chapter. Be heroes again.”

  Chapter 33

  Missy’s latest ‘foe’ tonight crashed The Junction’s Artwalk in Five Cities Square. Tracking him was simple: follow the screams of bystanders fleeing the scene.

  He called himself Nightfang, roaring it for everyone to hear.

  "Seriously?" Quinn scoffed as Missy sprang from the van in her black unitard and hooded jacket.

  Nightfang, leonine and broad-shouldered, had a shock of orange hair and blood-red eyes. Bystanders ran while he slashed a vicious path through food trucks and carts with steel finger-claws.

  Quinn might have worried if this wasn’t another actor. She assessed the location, spotting Five Points Square restaurants that were sponsoring Missy’s SLOCO Daily profile. Let’s see if my hunch plays out, Quinn mused, watching Missy dash to meet Nightfang.

  “The Junction’s protector,” Nightfang mocked, brandishing his claws. “Let’s see how durable your sweet flesh is.”

  Missy stood resolute. Her smile oozed confidence. “Come at me, bro.”

  And Nightfang cut the distance between them in a flash. Quinn cringed, dreading how much damage he'd do before letting Missy win.

  Surprisingly, Missy thrust both hands out right in Nightfang’s face with an eruption of bright rainbow fireworks. He violently reared back, howling in pain.

  Missy spun with a swift roundhouse kick, knocking Nightfang into a food cart. He stayed down. Missy strode forward and knelt over him to check.

  She bent a steel picture frame with her bare hands around Nightfang to restrain him. Missy rose to loud cheers and seemed genuinely touched. “Thank you, everyone.”

  Quinn’s mouth hung open. “That was fast.”

  Beside her, Montgomery Major nodded. “She’s Missy Magnificent. What did you expect?” Yet he looked strangely displeased by the quick victory.

  Quinn ignored him and studied Five Points Square as bystanders swarmed Missy Magnificent. Ravishing Repo Services. Diamantina Jewelers. None had any damage from Nightfang’s rampage.

  All are sponsors for Missy’s profile. Why aren’t her opponents touching these businesses? Quinn had some feelers out that she hoped would provide answers.

  The flash of red-and-blue lights confirmed the police’s arrival.

  “Missy fought like when she was with the Extreme Teens,” Colin commented, watching Missy sign autographs and pose for selfies. He stood with Quinn near their van.

  Shelley circled the groundswell of fans with a handheld camera.

  “Look who’s unhappy.” Quinn saw Montgomery Major at the fringes, speaking heatedly on his cell.

  Colin followed her gaze, brushing back his shaggy mane. “He’s probably preoccupied.”

  Quinn side-eyed him. How could he not see the fishiness behind these battles? But Quinn kept quiet. She needed more info on whatever tied Montgomery to Ultimax Insurance.

  Colin turned to Quinn with pensive eyes. “So…I’m guessing that’s a wrap with us?”

  Quinn stared up at him blankly. “OH!” She cringed at her own obtuseness. Between crashing with her family last week and this new investigation, she’d neglected Colin. Their situation never had any definition besides sex. But Quinn wasn’t in the headspace for a relationship. How could she tell Colin without hurting him? “Colin…”

  He waved off her explanation. “You told me early on what this wasn’t.” A smile masked some of his sadness. “Things were fun while they lasted.”

  Quinn leaned against the van to steady her guilt. Colin giving her an out was appreciated. But disappointing a friend felt awful. How do I fix this? “You sure you’re okay?”

  Colin nodded, glancing skyward. “I’d never make things awkward. I’m not Jono.”

  Quinn laughed. “You’re better than I deserved.” Her smile faded. If only her head and heart were in alignment, Colin Garner would be a dream boyfriend.

  Colin shook his head. “You got that reversed, QB. I hope you eventually realize that.”

  The evening grew colder. But Quinn’s cheeks warmed considerably. She averted her gaze to cops loading a dazed Nightfang into a car. Farther left, Missy faced the crowds like some political candidate.

  Quinn straightened up, back in business mode. “She’s addressing the masses.”

  Colin grabbed his camera from the van. “Shall we?”

  Missy spoke with smiles and sweeping gestures, to her packed audience. “No matter what happens, I am here to protect you, the citizens of The Junction,” she vowed. That won huge applause from the crowd.

  Missy continued, her costume sparkling under the last vestiges of daylight. “The rest of San Miguel may have forgotten. I won’t.” More thunderous applause.

  Quinn wanted to puke. Not from Missy’s sincerity. Just the forces puppeteering this young hero.

  “What about my business?” a voice far back cried. “Your battle destroyed my store!”

  Missy turned, her smile fading.

  A small black woman stepped forward, her hair needing serious rebraiding. Fury radiated from
her pinched expression. “I can’t pay the premiums!” The once jovial crowd had soured. Some fair-weather bystanders booed this new arrival.

  Missy looked taken aback. “I'm sorry,” she replied with pure remorse. “Things got crazy.”

  The woman wasn’t having that weak explanation. “How will that apology feed my family?” The crowd got more riled up.

  Missy recoiled from the reaction. “I’ll do better.” She looked confused, wounded. “I’m here to help.”

  “Wanna help?” said a skinny youth covered in tattoos. “Get out of The Junction!”

  With that, Montgomery Major and other flacks dragged Missy away as many in the crowd bellowed their approval. After spiriting her into their van, Quinn, Colin, and Shelley hopped inside.

  Quinn tried getting a response during the ride back to Missy’s headquarters blocks away. The hero ignored her, staring out the window in silence. Upon reaching her HQ, Missy stormed into a conference room in tears with Monty at her heels. Behind closed doors, a screaming match erupted.

  Colin, Shelley, and Quinn stood outside, fidgeting awkwardly.

  “That wasn’t fun,” Shelley commented.

  Quinn nodded in agreement. “Not even.” A buzzing vibration grabbed her attention.

  She pulled out her cellphone, and beamed at the caller ID.

  “My mom,” she lied to her coworkers before darting into an empty room. Shutting the door behind her, Quinn leaned on the center table and answered. “Hey, Clint.”

  “Not quite.”

  The growling voice startled Quinn upright. “OH. Hello.”

  “Clint’s busy,” Geist replied in brusque tones. “I have his update.”

  Quinn wasn’t expecting that. “Hit me.”

  “You said that Super Solutions registered as a business last spring?” Geist clarified.

  “Yes.”

  The vigilante snorted. “The superheroes on the Super Solutions site. Six months, and none are registered with OSA or any superhuman-affiliated government agency.”

  Quinn’s throat was dry. She knew what this meant. “Any superhero or team working with a management company must be government registered. Meaning Super Solution's clients are fake.”

  “Correct,” Geist replied.

  Quinn paced the room, another memory jarred loose. “Missy told me that mid-April last year, she was in rehab considering retirement. Montgomery Major reached out, convincing her not to.”

  “Weeks later, they’re dating,” Geist added. “Montgomery honey-trapped Missy.”

  Quinn winced. “I think so.” Poor Missy, in a fake marriage trying to revive a fake career. Quinn rubbed the ridge of her nose and focused on the other malefactor. “I haven’t found much on Ultimax Insurance. Can Clint use his hacking jujitsu?”

  “He’ll look into it.”

  Quinn sighed in relief. Oh…” Another thought sized her. “Missy defeated a new ‘criminal’ an hour ago. Calls himself Nightfang. Could your police contacts see when anyone bails him out?”

  “Yes.” Geist’s irritation was tangible. “Any other orders?”

  “No,” Quinn said in a small voice, knowing she’d overstepped. “Thanks.” Quinn hung up as someone knocked outside the room. “Come in.”

  Helena Madden strolled in, wearing the daylights out of a green leather bomber and scarf.

  Quinn brightened. “Hey! What brings you here?”

  “Hey, you.” Helena gave her a one-armed hug. “Had time before an industry dinner.”

  Quinn studied Helena closely. Her striking features appeared more haggard, the crows’ feet around her eyes obvious behind those tinted glasses. Even her smile appeared brittle, as if the slightest tap could shatter it. Helena’s douchebag boyfriend, Jono McGowan, had been making a stink everywhere recently, leaving her to fix his messes.

  “You good?” Quinn inquired, glancing at the handful of people outside the conference room.

  “Eh.” Helena shrugged, smile wavering. “Everything is a lot right now.” She changed subjects before Quinn could probe deeper. “How are things here?”

  Quinn weighed if she should talk, recalling the last time she’d withheld details from Helena. With that in mind, Quinn moved past her and shut the room door again.

  Helena arched an eyebrow. “Uh-oh.”

  Reaching for courage she couldn’t feel, Quinn faced Helena. “Montgomery Major lied to us.”

  Helena looked lost. “Explain.”

  “He’s paying criminals to lose for Missy.” Quinn drummed her fingers together. “And there’s something screwy between Ultimax Insurance and our Junction sponsors.”

  Helena doubled over laughing. “You’re joking.” When Quinn replied with stone-faced silence, she stopped. “I would kill for your luck with these exposés.”

  Quinn scowled at the flippant response. “How ya want to play this?”

  “Continue like nothing’s amiss,” Helena advised, placing reassuring hands on her protégé’s shoulders. “But keep discreetly getting rock-solid proof. And keep me in the loop.”

  It was the answer Quinn had hoped for. “Okay, great.”

  Helena chuckled. “Packer might freak if there’s a sponsor issue.”

  Brief nausea washed over Quinn. “Packer’s got other interests. Like Tania and Jess.” She explained what she’d seen at the hotel a few days prior.

  Helena went slack-jawed. “Oh…shit. I’ve heard rumors, seen him at social gatherings.” Recovering quickly from her initial shock, she smirked. “Thanks for the ammo.”

  Quinn wanted no part of SLOCO Daily’s game of thrones. “If you need to talk about life stuff, I’m here.”

  A tired smile pulled at Helena’s mouth. “Noted.”

  Once Helena left, Quinn found Colin waiting in the lobby. The room Missy had been in was open and unoccupied. “Where did Missy go?” Quinn asked.

  His morose look spoke volumes as he guided her outside. They strolled down the sidewalk without words, passing The Junction’s usual sketchy vagrants and dark corners. Soon they reached a seedy bar blocks away. Quinn could hear Missy from outside over blaring eighties glamrock.

  Inside, a fully-costumed Missy stood atop the bar dancing without a care in the world. Several patrons kept buying her shots, which she kept downing. Montgomery Major was nowhere to be found. Quinn cringed at the countless cellphones pointed and recording.

  She held Missy’s gaze momentarily. The superhero sneered in drunken defiance before tossing back another shot.

  Quinn felt disgust, sadness, and anger all at once. She turned to Colin. “Can you—?”

  “On it.” He marched into the bar to retrieve Missy. Once Colin carried Missy out and returned her to the HQ, Quinn thought about heading home.

  But she thought of her cousin Jordana fixing a broken friendship, which took Quinn elsewhere.

  Half an hour later, she was at Annie’s front door in north Paso Robles. Her persistent knocking paid off as the door opened.

  A young man with dirty-blond hair and a full beard answered. Quinn choked back displeasure. But she’d expected to see Johnny Sherwood. “Quinn,” he said, eyes wide with surprise.

  “Jonathan,” Quinn addressed with clipped formality. “Is Annie home?”

  Johnny turned brick-red, straightening to his full height. “You’d know better than me?” he remarked sullenly.

  The rudeness was the last straw. “Whatever.” Quinn pivoted sharply and marched away.

  “Wait. Please.”

  Quinn so wanted to keep walking. Or to slap the taste out of Johnny's mouth. But his ragged plea stopped Quinn in place. She pivoted back around with a smoldering glare.

  Johnny scratched his head. He looked more exhausted than Helena. “I’m sorry,” he stated gently. “For that and a few months ago.”

  Quinn’s wasn’t fully sold. His apology was a start. “Why would I know better than you where your fiancée is?”

  The color drained from Johnny’s face. “Jesus, it’s worse than I thought.” Jo
hnny's eyes glistened. He looked so fragile. “We had a huge fight a few days ago. Annie called off our engagement, then moved out. Now, I don’t know where she is.”

  Hearing this left Quinn physically and emotionally unmoored. Annie and Johnny broke up?

  “Clearly, we should talk.” She nodded at his doorway.

  Johnny gestured inside his apartment. “Please.”

  Chapter 34

  Greyson hovered in the air under a blazing afternoon sun, sweating profusely in these camouflage fatigues. Every muscle tense from exertion, his fingers curled into claws. The air around his body swelled in fluid gravitational forces.

  Day two of the Noordaal invasion. Unlike Bellazul, Dourado, and Angelique, Amarantha’s northern most city had been prepared. In fact, House Garcia’s armed forces had met AmeriForce miles outside of Noordaal. AmeriForce not only had a brigade of humans and superhumans, but they’d disabled the collars on House Garcia's supers. That had led to chaos for House Garcia’s forces when most of the supers turned on their former enslavers.

  The battle was almost over, with some holdouts. Like the resistance Greyson now faced.

  One man against a defiant gaggle of Noordaal infantry. These soldiers in light armor trembled as their city fell around them. Regardless, these brave soldiers pointed assault rifles at Greyson.

  “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Surrender, freak,” this platoon’s commander ordered, barely keeping the terror from his voice. A distant boom singled the destruction of another Noordaal tank. “Or we’ll end you.”

  Every soldier adjusted their guns, fingers curling around the triggers.

  Greyson sighed. Fine. Be stupid. He clenched his fists, quadrupling each weapon’s gravity.

  Suddenly the soldiers were dropping their guns, some dragged to the ground.

  Now Rodrigo attacked, tucking into a shimmery ball of kinetic energy, bouncing off walls or soldiers, shattering bones. CJ advanced afterward, twenty feet tall, punting Noordaal soldiers so hard they went flying several feet.

  Within minutes, the fight was over.

  CJ shrank to her normal height of five-feet-five and exhaled, staring at the bodies. “It’s no fun when they’re smart,” she remarked.