Teen Superheroes Box Set | Books 1-7

by Pitt, Darrell

  ‘Hey guys,’ I said. ‘We need to talk.’

  Brodie turned to me, laughing. ‘Axel!’ she said. ‘Chad was just telling me the funniest story.’

  ‘I’m sure. Look, Dan just told me—’

  ‘Why are you looking so serious, Mister Leader?’ Chad asked. ‘Is the plane taking too long?’

  There are times I really hated Chad. Sometimes I think he was put on this Earth to drive me crazy. Sure, he was a friend, but I still wanted to kill him sometimes.

  I spoke in a hushed tone. ‘Dan thinks someone has a bomb on this plane.’

  Well, that sort of information would put a dampener on most conversations.

  ‘What?’ The smile fell from Brodie’s face. ‘Who?’

  ‘He’s trying to work that out.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ Chad asked. ‘Should we tell the crew?’

  ‘Tell them what?’ I asked. ‘That Dan can read minds? And there’s a loony about to blow up the plane?’

  ‘What do we know?’ Brodie asked.

  ‘It’s a man,’ I said. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘That narrows it down to roughly half the passengers.’

  ‘Probably less,’ Chad said. ‘Children are maybe five or ten percent.’

  I nodded.

  ‘We need to do a search,’ Brodie suggested. ‘See if we can spot him ourselves.’

  ‘He won’t be wearing a sign,’ Chad said.

  ‘No, but he might be nervous.’

  He might be nervous? I knew I was. Glancing about, I saw Ebony watching us curiously. I leaned close to Brodie. ‘Tell Ebony what’s happening,’ I said. ‘It’s probably best to leave Ferdy where he is. I’ll see if Dan knows anything more.’

  I headed for the rear. As I wandered past everyone, I scanned their faces for signs of guilt. Did any of the men look like they had just murdered their wives? It looked like one guy was currently engaged in a furious discussion with his partner; they seemed to want to kill each other. Another guy was staring into space with an odd expression.

  But how odd, exactly? Did he look psychotic odd?

  Then there was the guy sitting next to the window who was nervously wiping his face. Why is he nervous? Was he afraid of flying? Or afraid because he was about to blow up the plane? By the time I reached Dan, I was more confused than ever, and he looked unwell.

  ‘Any luck?’ I asked.

  ‘Not much. I’ve got a splitting headache and…’

  ‘And what?’

  He shook his head. ‘I think the guy’s carrying more than a bomb,’ he said. ‘I think he’s also got a gun.’

  A gun? How was that possible? Ever since 9/11, security on all domestic flights had been ramped up to the max. How could someone smuggle a gun and a bomb on board a plane? It was impossible unless they had an exemption to carry a weapon on a plane, and the only person allowed to do that would be—

  ‘Dan,’ I said urgently. ‘Could the person be a sky marshal?’

  ‘A sky marshal?’

  ‘Yes. You know. They’re kind of a police officer allowed to carry weapons on planes. They’re supposed to look after security, but—’

  But the person could have lost their mind.

  Dan nodded slowly. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said. ‘I’m getting a sense that he always carries a gun. I think he is some kind of cop.’

  I glanced over the rows of seats. Ebony and Brodie were working their way up the aisle closest to us, surreptitiously examining the passengers. Chad was searching the other aisle. He wasn’t so secretive. Actually, he looked like he wanted to fight someone.

  Well, he often looked like that.

  I grabbed Dan’s arm. ‘Just follow my lead,’ I said. ‘Try to get into the flight attendant’s head when I ask about sky marshals.’

  ‘What?’

  I dragged him with me. We pushed past a man and his son returning from the restroom and cornered a slim air stewardess in one of the galley alcoves. Her name tag read Kelly.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss,’ I said.

  ‘Yes?’

  She looked at us curiously.

  ‘I’m just trying to settle an argument with my friend,’ I said hurriedly. ‘We were having a conversation about sky marshals.’

  I glanced at Dan. He was focusing intently on the girl. Slowly, he turned around and looked back toward the rear of the aircraft.

  ‘Yes?’

  I made up a story about how I thought women weren’t allowed to be sky marshals. The girl assured me the role wasn’t gender-specific. I barely heard what she was saying. I was hoping she was doing exactly what I intended; flight crews always knew the identities of armed passengers. Here, it would be the sky marshal.

  After a few seconds, I nodded, gripped Dan’s arm, and dragged us away.

  ‘Speak to me,’ I said.

  ‘It’s him,’ Dan said, nodding to a man in a gray business suit who had just left his seat. He was slowly making his way to the back. I hadn’t noticed him when I scanned the passengers. He was just another ordinary looking guy. Reaching the back restrooms next to the rear door, his eyes settled on me.

  Uh oh.

  He knew. It must have been something in my face. Possibly a look of pure, naked fear. Whatever it was, he immediately looked alarmed and reached into his pocket.

  ‘Brodie!’ I yelled. ‘It’s him!’

  She turned at the sound of my voice, followed my outstretched arm with her eyes, and started toward the man. He dragged out a gun and pointed it wildly.

  He fired.

  I saw Brodie’s hand move faster than the eye can see. Reaching to her right, she spun around one hundred and eighty degrees like a drunk ballet dancer. Grabbing an armrest for support, she opened her clenched fist.

  She’d caught the bullet.

  People screamed as the man rifled through his pockets. I shoved a man out of the way. I needed to create a wall of air as a shield, but everything was happening too fast. A woman leaped up in front of me. Someone else fell into the aisle as they tried to escape from the chaos.

  The man took a step back. The look on his face was one of amazing calm. He looked kind of relieved.

  That’s when he detonated the bomb.

  Chapter Two

  General Solomon Wolff shaded his eyes as he stepped from the plane onto the boarding ramp and peered across the tarmac. It was a hot day in Dubai, but this country was known for its heat. It didn’t rain often, and it was common for the average temperature to reach boiling point in August.

  As luck would have it, this was August.

  Wolff didn’t let small things like the heat concern him. He was a mercenary, and men like him often enjoyed difficulty as much as they did comfort. Sometimes he thought he preferred it more. Heat and discomfort kept him on his toes. He’d seen too many comrades grow relaxed, and that was when they made mistakes.

  And mistakes in his line of work usually led to death.

  He walked down the passenger stairs and spotted a limousine on the tarmac. A man in a headscarf was waiting for him with a sign. Printed across it in white letters was a single word:

  Phillips

  This was the name he was currently using, and just the latest of many names he’d used over the years. He nodded to the driver. The man opened the back door, and Wolff climbed in. The vehicle was decorated in leather and gold-colored metal. He peered a little closer.

  I believe that is actually gold.

  They drove through the shopping district in Dubai. This country was a place of extremes. People still rode camels here, although others just as happily drove vehicles. The predominant religion was the Muslim faith, and here women wore the traditional clothing, the abaya, a black ankle-length gown that covered the head. This was a place of immense wealth, and money created freedom: the freedom to build, the freedom to control.

  One sign of that freedom dominated the landscape directly in front of Wolff. The world’s tallest building—the Burj Khalifa—rose directly from the city before him. Wolff felt
a tiny sense of pride that he was about to attend a meeting in this structure. He stifled the emotion. Pride was a weakness and a weakness that could kill. He forced himself to look out impassively at the passing streets.

  The vehicle drew closer to the building.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Wolff said.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘I’ll walk the last few feet. Thank you.’

  The car drew to a halt, and Wolff once more stepped out into the terrible heat. He looked up at the Burj Khalifa. This was a fantastic structure. Not only was it the world’s tallest skyscraper, but it also held records for the highest restaurant, highest mosque, and highest nightclub.

  Amusingly, it held the record for the world’s second highest swimming pool, but Wolff doubted the building’s owners lost any sleep over it.

  A man met him in the lobby. He wore a suit, and unlike many other people Wolff had seen here, he didn’t appear to be an Arab. Wolff suspected he was European.

  ‘Mister Phillips?’ the man said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I am Jean-Pierre Bertrand,’ he said, shaking hands with Wolff. ‘I notice you examining the building from the outside.’

  ‘It’s most impressive.’

  ‘It is,’ Bertrand said. ‘Our meeting will take place on the one hundred and thirtieth floor. I think you will find it a most incredible view.’

  Wolff nodded. Bertrand led him through to an elevator. The attendant pushed a button, and they ascended at great speed.

  That’s right, Wolff thought. This structure also holds the record for the world’s fastest elevators.

  Another record broken.

  The elevator came to a precise halt. Bertrand led him out into a foyer, and they passed two businessmen leaving a meeting. They were probably reputable. Most of the dealings that took place in this structure were reputable.

  Most meetings.

  Some, like the one he was about to attend, couldn’t be called reputable by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, disreputable would be putting it kindly. Wolff was ready to meet with an individual who would make any Interpol or FBI agent’s mouth water with anticipation.

  Arriving at a suite, Bertrand knocked on the door three times. After a moment, it opened, and a servant showed them into a room that had a spectacular view of the entire Gulf of Oman.

  This is where my life has brought me, Wolff thought. To the top of the world.

  He was aware of the pride he felt but allowed himself to enjoy it for a few seconds.

  ‘Impressive, is it not?’ a voice said from behind.

  Wolff turned slowly. The man who had appeared behind him was of average build with brown hair and eyes. Possibly about forty years of age. Clean-shaven. No distinguishing marks of any noticeable kind.

  ‘I’m sure you know who I am,’ the man said.

  ‘I do,’ Wolff replied. ‘You are Mercer Todd. I believe you hold the number three position on the FBI’s most-wanted list.’

  Todd inclined his head. ‘A dubious honor. There are sadists and serial killers on that list. I’m not that kind of man.’ He smiled. ‘However, I sometimes make use of the services of men who are.’

  Wolff nodded and said nothing.

  ‘Please take a seat,’ Todd said. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Water would be fine.’

  The men sat facing each other, but still had a view of the gulf. A glass arrived for Wolff, but he noticed Todd didn’t have a drink.

  ‘I understand you are a man who can get things,’ Todd said.

  ‘I have been known to be able to acquire certain things under the right circumstances,’ Wolff said. ‘And for the right price.’

  Todd named a price. It was a lot of money. It occurred to Wolff that he never would have thought his services could be considered so valuable. One hundred million dollars was a lot in anyone’s terms. This meant the task wouldn’t be easy, but he wasn’t hired to carry out easy assignments.

  ‘You’ve named your price,’ Wolff said. ‘Perhaps you should name the thing you require.’

  Todd nodded. ‘I need you to kidnap someone for me,’ he said. ‘A child. A very important child.’

  Wolff said nothing. For one hundred million dollars, he imagined it must be the child of a president—possibly the American President—or a prime minister. He asked if this were the case.

  The man who rated the number three position on the FBI’s most-wanted list smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile.

  ‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘The child is not famous. Not yet. But he will be.’

  Todd told him the child’s identity.

  It wasn’t often that Wolff doubted if he could achieve his task, but this was one of those rare times. He sat for a long moment, considering the offer. One hundred million dollars. It was a lot of money, but he knew he’d be earning every cent. He hadn’t met this child, but he’d dealt with his friends. They were possibly the most challenging adversaries he’d ever faced.

  He’d need help to make this mission work.

  ‘They’re sharing a group household,’ Todd continued. ‘Under the name of Smith.’

  Wolff nodded. ‘Where?’

  ‘A house outside of Las Vegas.’

  Wolff sighed to himself.

  Of course, he thought. More desert.

  Chapter Three

  The blast took out the passenger door to the bomber’s left as well as the restroom to his right; it disintegrated into debris as did three seats. A roar filled the compartment as the air was sucked out of the aircraft, and a fine mist filled the cabin. People screamed as oxygen masks fell from the ceiling.

  It was mayhem. Absolute mayhem.

  The plane lurched to one side. I saw the vacuum of air dragging a man helplessly along the aisle toward the breach in the cabin. Another passenger grabbed hold of him. At the same time, I realized the front of the aircraft seemed to drop; the plane was going into a dive. I had to seal the breach in the hull with a shield. Unfortunately, the plane pitched to the right as I tried to focus on the breach.

  Both Dan and I were thrown sideways into the laps of a married couple who were desperately scrambling to work out how to position the oxygen masks. One was trying to place it on their young daughter; the girl’s face was filled with absolute terror.

  The instructions always tell you to put the mask on yourself first, I thought. Then help younger children. Don’t people read the instruction cards?

  People didn’t always think well in a panic. Fortunately, I had my ability to control air, so I created an air bubble around myself and Dan. We could breathe—for now. I grabbed one of the masks and positioned it over the man’s face while Dan helped to aid the girl.

  He gave us a grateful look as the air began to flow. Regaining my feet, I realized the plane was now rising again. For a few seconds, it seemed level. Then the nose continued to rise too steeply.

  ‘The pilots must be trying to get control of the plane,’ I yelled to Dan.

  ‘You’ve got to seal the hole,’ Dan said.

  I tried to focus on creating a shield in the hull. Usually, when I created shields, I could see them as a faint out-of-focus bubble. I held out my hand and focused hard on knitting the air molecules together that would create the barrier. Nothing happened.

  ‘Come on,’ I groaned in desperation. ‘Work!’

  Still, the shield wouldn’t form.

  What’s wrong with my powers?

  Before I could worry about this more, a crack appeared in the hull beside the breach. It looked like the plane was starting to tear apart.

  I had to seal that hole in the hull, but nothing was happening.

  ‘Take a breath!’ I told Dan.

  He looked at me in confusion but followed my order. I dropped the air bubbles around us and put all my focus into creating the shield. The hull continued to tear, ripping into a window next to an elderly woman.

  My shield isn’t forming!

  Casting a despairing look across the rows of seats, I saw Chad s
taring at me in confusion. The preferred option was for me to create one of my shields. It was invisible, and while people might wonder later how the plane held together, it would forever remain a mystery.

  The second option was Chad.

  With my powers out of commission, it was time for option two.

  I nodded to Chad, and he immediately pointed at the break in the hull. Ice started to form at its edges. Within seconds it had crept across the gap and covered the opening. The terrible screaming wind that had filled the cabin dropped away to silence. Even the cold subsided. The temperature outside the hull had probably been below zero. Now it was slowly starting to rise.

  A groan sounded throughout the entire plane. Chad had sealed the breach, but it sounded like irreversible damage had been done to the fuselage of the aircraft. The plane would rip apart in seconds.

  I caught the eye of the stewardess we’d just spoken to—Kelly—and she opened her eyes in horror. Someone came racing down the aisle, pushing Kelly out of the way and almost knocking me over.

  Ebony.

  I instantly realized what she intended to do. I chased her down the aisle. She positioned herself next to the icy barrier that her brother had created.

  ‘What are you making?’ I asked.

  ‘Titanium.’

  She placed her hand against the ice, and the barrier immediately began to change color. It was changing to a shade of dull silver. Within moments Ebony had used her transmutation ability to strengthen the plug.

  ‘It’s one of the strongest and lightest metals known to man,’ Ebony said. ‘I’m changing most of the hull as well.’

  The terrible groaning that had affected the hull subsided. I was just about ready to relax when I realized the plane was veering wildly to one side again.

  Chad and Brodie joined us.

  ‘What’s going on with the plane?’ Chad asked. ‘Why can’t the pilots get it under control?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said.

  Kelly, the stewardess, joined our group. Her eyes were as wide as plates.

  ‘What’s going on back here?’ Her mouth fell open. ‘How did you fix the hull?’

  ‘We didn’t do anything,’ I said. ‘It just fixed itself.’