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

by C. C. Ekeke

  Mom sniffed, regaining composure. “Blind date,” she admitted sheepishly.

  Hugo gawked. “Really?”

  Mom withdrew her hands. “Don’t look so surprised.” She shrank a bit, clearly expecting negative feedback.

  “No, no. I’m glad,” Hugo promptly stated. Enough time had passed. “Are you ready?”

  Mom gave a nervous smile. “I think.”

  Hugo hoped so. Any man would be lucky to have his mother. “Good. Tell me how it goes.”

  “Mom, hurry up!” AJ barked over that god-awful Extreme Dreams show theme tune from the TV downstairs.

  Hugo bristled at his brother’s rudeness. He almost replied, until Mom gave a terse headshake.

  AJ remained angry at everyone since Sione’s departure. Hugo could tolerate AJ’s attitude. But not toward Mom. “What are we doing about him?” Hugo wanted to tell AJ the truth about Sione. But Mom wouldn't soil her brother further.

  Weariness seeped through her demeanor. “We should take a weekend trip to Big Sur.”

  Hugo loved Big Sur. But his superhero duties increasing and AJ’s issues changed things. “Take AJ this time,” Hugo suggested. “He needs you more.”

  “MOM,” AJ hollered. “This century!”

  Mom winced. “Alright!” She turned to Hugo. “I’ll drop AJ at Dallas’s house then go to my date.” An impish smile chased away her worries. “Are you hanging out with Jordana after patrolling? Or Taylor?” She raised one finger as an epiphany reached her. “Wait...Spencer came over two nights ago. Or is it Abilene, who clearly likes you? Or maybe that Latina girl from Halloween? I’m really losing count,” Mom concluded, frowning in mock confusion.

  Hugo gritted his teeth, regretting anything he’d revealed about his love life. “Goodnight, Mom!” The teen pulled his hood and mask on, adjusting both so they fit just right. Now he felt like Aegis.

  Hugo zoomed past Mom, racing downstairs and out the backdoor.

  An hour later, he stood on a high rooftop taking in San Miguel at night. Beyond an expanse of illuminated skyscrapers and veins of traffic, dark frothy seas roiled.

  So much city, almost zero major crimes. Mostly street-level crimes being handled by the cops or Geist’s team. Down in Arroyo Grande, Hugo’s hearing caught the roars of airplanes departing and landing at San Miguel International. In Atascadero, The Elite versus some ten-foot, four-armed monster named Behemoth ended brutally. Hugo knew to steer clear of them.

  Tomorrow Man had contained a fire spreading to a few wineries in Cambria…with cameras rolling, of course. Still desperate to make people care. The school assembly earlier this week where he’d spent an hour humble-bragging proved it.

  And Lady Liberty soared miles above doing an aerial patrol.

  For now, Hugo stood and listened. Blocks away, a couple celebrated their anniversary. Three friends encouraged each other at the gym despite a long workday.

  Or the near noiseless footfall behind Hugo. “Don’t you have criminals to intimidate?” he said in his Aegis voice. “Or paparazzi to avoid?”

  The footsteps stopped, breathing hiked. “Fuck you, Aegis.”

  Hugo glanced over his shoulder at the silhouette with glowing red eyes. “Tonight's quiet.” He looked back to the skyline. “I just want to enjoy the city.” San Miguel this high up took his breath away. “Did Titan ever do that?”

  “Rarely,” Geist replied after a moment. “Always another disaster to avert.”

  Hugo snorted. “Or another bed to warm.” But who was he to judge with his growing situationships?

  Geist, of course, didn’t laugh. “Everyone has vices. Speaking of.” He tossed something at Hugo.

  He almost ducked, recalling his first encounter with Geist. Instead, Hugo caught a black thumb drive. “What’s on this?”

  “Undoctored footage from Paso High’s library,” Geist explained. “You vanish for a second, so do several kids. Then you reappear right as the camera and library are destroyed.”

  The revelation kicked Hugo in the gut. He looked at Geist. “Anyone else seen this?”

  Geist shook his head, his shrouded form like one of the shadows around the roof. “Your school uses close-circuit feeds. We swapped it with a corrupted copy that distorts.”

  Hugo gulped in crushing relief. “Thanks.” He stuffed the flash drive in one of his suit’s hidden pockets, reinforced to protect contents from damage.

  The specter of his secret loomed like someone watching from afar whom he couldn’t see. First Brie, then Mr. Proctor. Now this. Searing guilt flooded him, which he only now felt. “Mr. Proctor knew about me,” Hugo blurted out. Besides Geist, only Simon, Mom, and Lady Liberty knew. He shook his head slowly. “I want to say I let Proctor die because of his crimes. But I know it was also to protect my identity.”

  “Hmmm,” was Geist’s gravelly, eloquent response.

  Frustrated, Hugo tried a question to get a reply. “Did I do the right thing?”

  “Yes.” Geist’s growl softened. “But is judge, jury, and executioner the kind of hero you want to be?”

  Hugo opened his mouth to refute. But what if another criminal committed monstrous deeds? Or learned his secret identity? “No,” he answered honestly. “I don’t think so.”

  A windy rush heralded someone’s arrival. “It shouldn’t be, Aegis.”

  Hugo looked up. Lady Liberty floated a few feet above, hands on hips, wearing her red outfit and knee-high boots. The breezes tousled her brunette bob. How her slender legs weren’t chilly baffled Hugo, until he realized how long he’d stared.

  “Geist,” Lady Liberty greeted so coldly that Hugo’s ears nearly froze off.

  “Libby,” the vigilante snarled back. His glowing eyes shifted to Hugo. “Stop grinning like an idiot!”

  Hugo gazed at two iconic members of the Superhero Triad which had included Titan. Now, Hugo stood with both as a peer. Damn straight he was grinning like an idiot. “Not sorry,” he gushed. “This is epic!”

  Lady Liberty rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “Table the fanboying tonight.”

  “NOPE,” Hugo threw back. “I’m still a fanboy, even after getting Titan’s powers.”

  Though Geist’s mask revealed no emotion, his eyes narrowed oddly after Hugo’s statement. He then withdrew into the shadows. A flutter from his coat signaled Geist rappelling off the building.

  “Didn’t know you two hated each other,” Hugo said, dismayed seeing that.

  “My relationship with Geist is complicated,” Lady Liberty admitted. “Titan kept the peace. Since his death…things are more strained.”

  Hugo turned his attention to downtown San Miguel. The glittering cityscape went on forever in all directions, with so many to protect. The responsibility was humbling…and overwhelming. Hugo wanted to be the kind of hero these citizens wouldn’t fear, even from the shadows. “I’m sorry I let you down.” When he’d told Lady Liberty what had happened with Proctor, she hadn’t reacted beyond a blank look.

  Tonight, her features warmed with love. “You’ll face tougher calls as your career progresses. Choosing between life and death.” She touched down in front of him. “In your position, I understand the call you made.”

  “Okay.” That made Hugo feel somewhat better.

  Lady Liberty wasn’t done. “How you feel now? Remember it every time you’re in a similar position. Fight like hell to make better choices.” She gazed out at San Miguel. “Because playing judge, jury, and executioner takes pieces of you that you can never get back.”

  The words chilled Hugo, holding his attention.

  “The next thing you know…” Lady Liberty looked over her shoulder at Hugo. “You become the very darkness you’re supposed to be fighting.” Her voice caught at the end.

  Hugo felt nauseous. “I’ll never let that happen.” After Fall Fling, he knew how easily he could cross the line. The thrill of wielding superpowers was intoxicating…and terrifying.

  Lady Liberty smiled broadly. “Whatever your North Star is, hold that
close.”

  “I will—” Something farther inland caught Hugo’s ear. He turned east.

  Screams, alarms, and shouts for superhuman supremacy. Finally, some action. “Psych facility east of Templeton. Five supers breaking in.” Hugo turned to his mentor, chest tight with anticipation. “Superhero team-up?”

  Lady Liberty went airborne. “I attack from the front. You attack from behind.”

  Hugo grinned, so ready for this. “Race you there.” He leaped off the rooftop and zoomed across another building. Lady Liberty easily kept pace through skies.

  Aegis teaming up with Lady Liberty. Hugo barely contained his glee. Tonight’s patrol was officially his favorite ever!

  He reached the facility in seconds, scanning the scorched yet vacant perimeter.

  With Lady Liberty soaring overhead, Hugo crouched and steeled himself. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Now!” she barked.

  The two heroes exploded into battle.

  Epilogue

  Quinn scurried out of the SMAT subway exit, hoop earrings jostling. The red bubble-down jacket and orange scarf over her blouse and jeans warded off the evening cold. She knew the way to K-Rads in oldtown Paso Robles by heart. A regular hangout for her close work friends—the circle of trust!

  Once she reached outside the bar, Quinn paused and scrolled through her phone at a new alert on The Vanguard Instagram account. About Seraph and Sentinel.

  Uh-Oh. Despite her dread, Quinn decided to watch anyway.

  The video revealed Seraph and Sentinel sitting in some studio at Vanguard HQ. The female hero donned her chaste white costume covered in silvery embroidered religious symbols. Her fluffy wings jutted from her back but furled up. Seraph was fidgeting. Another bad sign. Sentinel wore his traditional military-styled suit, without the helmet. His impossibly square-jawed face was solemn, as usual.

  They’re breaking up, Quinn decided, wincing. But she couldn’t stop watching.

  Surprisingly, Seraph spoke first. “There’ve been rumors about our relationship and the constant cancelled weddings,” she said, soft and sweet. “So, we’re making an official announcement.”

  She and Sentinel reached held hands. “Our wedding happens on July 25th this summer,” Sentinel announced with a proud smile. “No more postponements.”

  “YAY!” Quinn cried, ignoring passersby’s stares.

  Seraph gave her fiancé a glowing look. “Kurt and I will get married. Come Hell or high water.”

  “Or world-ending catastrophe,” Sentinel quipped. Seraph let out an adorably melodic laugh as the video ended. Quinn found herself laughing her head off, too.

  No sooner than she closed Instagram, a call came through. Speak of the angel. “Congratulations,” Quinn greeted after answering.

  “This is your fault,” Seraph accused playfully.

  “You’re…welcome?”

  “Whatever you and Annie said,” the superhero continued, “Kurt’s approaching everything differently. Not just us.” She sounded content yet mystified. “He’s actually listening to our teammates.”

  Hearing she had anything to do with The Vanguard’s improved harmony warmed Quinn’s heart. But Seraph’s past choices cast lingering doubt over this renewed commitment. “Is this marriage what you really want?”

  “Yeah...” Seraph’s reply carried a hint too much doubt. She fortified her tone. “Yes, it is.”

  Sounded like Mikaela’s trying to convince herself. “Then I’m happy for you,” Quinn said instead of prying deeper. No need to throw cold water on Seraph’s happiness.

  “As punishment for your sins,” she went on blithely, “you get to be a bridesmaid.”

  “Oh…wow.” The offer left Quinn staggered. “Thanks.”

  “More details to come. Talk soon, Quinn.”

  Once the call ended, Quinn slipped inside the bar.

  The ambiance was well-lit, loud, and classy. She spotted Creed, Jensen, Colin, Shelley, and a few other work friends seated in the center of the dining area. The circle of trust.

  Creed spotted her and brightened. “She’s here!” The whole table turned, showering her with greetings.

  Quinn blushed at the outpouring affection. “Sorry I’m late!” She eased off her jacket and scarf before sitting beside Jensen, whose pale complexion was flushed from alcohol.

  Creed leaned over Jensen’s lap with a serious expression. “We got a newcomer tonight.” He nodded at the bar as a familiar face approached carrying sliders and chips.

  Quinn flattened against her seat in surprise to take in this bizarro world sight. “Hello,” she exclaimed an octave higher than normal. “Didn’t know you were coming!”

  Helena Madden offered a megawatt smile, placing food plates on the table. She sat across from Quinn, fetching in figure-hugging jumper with buttons undone, spiky hair tousled yet subdued. “I heard your secret gossip circle was celebrating the Missy Magnificent exposé.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief behind those red-tinted glasses.

  “The more the merrier!” Quinn helped herself to a juicy slider, giving Helena a questioning look about boyfriend Jono’s whereabouts.

  The editor-in-chief’s joy dimmed fleetingly as she answered with a terse headshake.

  In one vein, Quinn felt euphoric relief. Jono was the worst. Yet, it made her sad for Helena. Things between them must be bad.

  Still, Helena’s presence felt weird. The circle of trust usually gabbed about work grievances—including their editor-in-chief. However, the Helena that Quinn knew outside of work emerged, gossiping with everyone. That relaxed the mood, along with plentiful drinks. Quinn enjoyed the company, yet remained stuck on The Junction scandal.

  Damián Hazard was in jail for murdering Montgomery Major, plus kidnapping Quinn and Missy.

  Ultimax had been shuttered after several Junction businesses launched a class-action lawsuit. And Laura Tarsitano, formerly of Paxton-Brandt, had been charged with a litany of crimes.

  Then there was Missy, destroyed by another failed comeback and massive betrayal.

  “Still with us, QB?” Colin checked in, snapping her from her rabbit hole. Helena was telling a raunchy story from her war correspondent days that had the table roaring. One that Quinn had already heard.

  “I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just wiped.”

  Two hours later, the circle had departed, leaving Quinn and Helena lounging at the bar. The editor-in-chief looked borderline drunk, nursing a glass of Scotch. “Shoulda seen Packer after this Missy Magnificent profile fell through and we had to refund the sponsorship money.” Helena gave a bawdy chuckle. “He acted like someone stole his bowl of Skittles.”

  “I bet,” Quinn replied testily. “Packer won’t even acknowledge my existence. Same with his harem.” Tania and Jess no longer invited her to Ad Sales happy hours. Good. Since discovering their proclivities, Quinn’s skin crawled whenever she saw them.

  “Probably a good thing,” Helena remarked dryly. “It’s not just sex parties and egos in Ad Sales.”

  Quinn cringed from any image of Packer having sexy times. Gross. “There’s more?”

  Helena leaned close. “Overcharging sponsors, then skimming the extra off. Ad Sales sponsorship contracts are engineered so no one notices. Packer’s a crook.”

  “WHAT?” Quinn glanced around, making sure no one else heard. “He’s stealing from sponsors?” she whisper-shouted.

  Helena took another pull of her drink. “Packer’s been overcharging for years. Didn’t have proof until The Vanguard Interviews.” She looked reproachful at Quinn’s reaction. “Packer’s sterling personality isn’t why his team is so loyal, and pompous? His son, Scott, and the rest of his lieutenants get bonuses from the money he’s stealing.”

  Quinn could barely find words to respond. “This getting out could ruin SLOCO Daily.”

  “And it can’t,” Helena warned, her intense gaze locking Quinn in place. “Not publicly. I’m building a case against Packer, but need some more examples of him stea
ling from sponsors and the cronyism with his pixie-bitch harem. Then I can roast that Butterball and force him out.” She gave a half-smile. “After that, Ad Sales’ days of being untouchable are over.”

  Quinn blinked, still unpacking this bombshell. She’d seen Packer and Helena’s epic screaming matches over budgets and content. But Quinn always assumed the two respected each other. “That’s some Game of Thrones shit.”

  Helena gasped. “You swore!”

  “OH,” Quinn realized in dismay. After so long. “Dang.”

  Helena laughed. Quinn stewed about her slipup, among other things.

  “So...” Helena studied her protégé with concern. “You broke two huge stories! Why so serious?”

  Three whiskey shots had loosened Quinn's tongue, so she spilled. “I’m thinking of Missy.” She lifted then dropped her shoulders. “Beneath all the baggage and drama and partying, she was courageous when it counted. But what her husband did and how he died broke her.” She blinked away sorrow. “Missy loved Montgomery, even though he was a scummy Svengali.”

  Helena took a long sip of her Scotch, making a face at the pungency. “Watching your lover’s head get spiked like a volleyball would fuck anyone up,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Where is she now?”

  “Long-term rehab facility,” Quinn said. The location was undisclosed for understandable reasons. “I don’t think Missy’s coming back this time.” Maybe that was a good thing.

  Helena shook her head. “Missy got honeytrapped and humiliated by some loser with the power to change colors on things. Who could recover from that?”

  Her mentor’s merciless honesty rattled Quinn. “Well, when you frame it that way…”

  “The truth ain’t always pretty.” Helena placed her glass down. “I sense more on your mind.”

  Quinn needed no prompting to voice her other issue. “Paxton-Brandt and Laura frakking Tarsitano.”

  Helena sighed at her protégé’s righteous anger. “She’s in jail.”

  “Paxton-Brandt publicly condemned her ties to Damián Hazard,” Quinn retorted, arms folded petulantly. Tarsitano had then confirmed her guilt in a news conference that looked more like a hostage video. “I don’t buy it.”