Teen Superheroes Box Set | Books 1-7

by Pitt, Darrell

  Okay, it was the worst explanation in history, but I didn’t have another option at the time. The plane veered back level again but began to go back into a dive.

  ‘Why isn’t the plane leveling?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Maybe some other damage occurred when the explosion happened.’

  ‘It’s the tail,’ a voice came from down the aisle.

  We grouped around a man who was staring out the window toward the rear of the plane.

  ‘I think debris hit the tail,’ he said. ‘It looks like part of it is missing.’

  Brodie pushed past him and peered out the window.

  ‘We need—’ She began.

  Before she could say anything more, the plane’s nose abruptly began to rise again. Someone nearby dragged off their air mask and vomited.

  ‘I know,’ Chad said. ‘We need a new tail.’

  He looked through the window and focused. A few seconds later, he moved out of the way, and Ebony took his place at the window.

  She smiled. ‘One new tail. Not as good as the first, but good enough so we can land.’

  Kelly looked at us in amazement. ‘Who are you kids?’ she asked. ‘How did you do that?’

  Other passengers were looking at us in amazement too. I looked at Dan, who nodded without speaking.

  ‘We’ll explain,’ he said. ‘Just as soon as we land.’

  The major airport servicing Las Vegas was McCarran International Airport. Half an hour after the plane had landed, Dan positioned himself at the front door as people exited. Upon landing, Ebony had already turned the appropriate parts of the 747 back to their original substances. She evaporated the tail and the hole in the side of the plane.

  ‘You will forget any of us were ever onboard this plane,’ Dan told the departing passengers.

  People smiled and nodded in return.

  ‘You were never here,’ an elderly man told him.

  ‘We’ve never seen you before in our lives,’ an entire family chimed in unison as they marched past us.

  ‘The force will be with you,’ Dan added. ‘Always.’

  As the last of the passengers disembarked, Kelly and a few of the other stewardesses grouped around us.

  ‘The pilots have to be congratulated for landing the plane under such terrible conditions,’ Dan said.

  ‘We will congratulate them,’ they said in unison.

  ‘You will forget us completely and emphasize the bravery and ability of the pilots,’ he said.

  The crew agreed.

  ‘You might remember one very handsome young man who showed exceptional bravery under extremely—’

  That’s when we grabbed Dan and disembarked. He’s a great kid, but sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop.

  Chapter Four

  Home sweet home.

  It was late in the afternoon. The drive back across the desert in the campervan was mostly in silence. Brodie drove. No-one even bothered to turn on the radio. Facing death has that effect on you.

  My eyes were firmly on the changing landscape. Las Vegas sits in the Mojave Desert. It’s a barren place. Hot and dry. But it has its own beauty. When we first came here, there was an almost unanimous vote to live in a hotel in the middle of town. It was only through my constant arguing and stubbornness that we ended up living to the west on Highway One Sixty.

  As we turned off the highway onto a side road, my mind returned to the events on the plane.

  What happened to my powers?

  I’d never had problems with them before. While at The Agency, I’d been able to form shields and weapons with ease. Was it something on the plane? Was it the stress of the situation? It was worrying that my powers could fail at just the wrong time. If Ebony and the others hadn’t been there, everyone on the plane would have been killed.

  Our campervan crested a rise, and we saw our little home in the valley. It was a single-story bungalow with views over the long, rolling hills. It wasn’t much, but it suited us. Or maybe I should rephrase that. It wasn’t much, but it suited me. We pulled up outside. The place had several water tanks, as well as an outdoor spa and solar power. Low-lying scrub surrounded it on all sides.

  Brodie brought the campervan to a halt. The others piled out through the side doors while Brodie and I sat silently in the front. We watched them head inside. A minute later, music erupted from the house.

  Nice to see someone’s having a good time.

  ‘What happened back on the plane?’ Brodie asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  So she’d noticed. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I tried forming a shield in the door, but I couldn’t make it happen.’

  ‘Don’t give yourself a hard time,’ she said gently. ‘It was hard for everyone to focus.’

  ‘Everyone still did their job,’ I replied. ‘Everyone except me.’

  She reached over and touched my hand with the tips of her fingers. It was like a spark of electricity. Brodie and I weren’t officially an item, but she still had the power to make me turn to Jell-O. I turned my hand over, so her fingers lay in my palm. Taking her hand in mine, I leaned across the seat and kissed her.

  Pushing my lips against hers, I felt dizzy as I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the moment.

  I wish it could have lasted forever, but at that moment, I heard a distant sound. Climbing from the vehicle, we rounded the campervan and walked up the road to the crest of the hill. A car was making its way toward us—a black four-wheel drive.

  Visitors out here were unknown. Someone might have taken the wrong turn off the highway.

  Maybe. But unlikely.

  By now, I could see the windows were made of darkened glass, making it impossible to see inside. The vehicle drew to a halt.

  Footsteps in the dirt sounded from behind us. Chad, Ebony, Dan, and Ferdy had come out to see who had taken the long drive from Vegas to see us. The front doors of the vehicle opened. For a moment, nothing happened. Then two men stepped out.

  I recognized both of them immediately.

  Mister Jones and Mister Brown from The Agency.

  Chapter Five

  These Americans love their flashing lights, General Wolff thought as he stepped from the Cadillac.

  He was standing at the corner of Tropicana Avenue and Las Vegas Boulevard in the heart of Las Vegas. Night had fallen. He cast a critical eye around him. Some of the most famous hotels surrounded him: the Luxor, the MGM Grand, the Excalibur, the Monte Carlo. Symbols of opulence and wealth.

  And flashing lights.

  Lots of flashing lights.

  Wolff had grown up in poverty, and he’d once killed another child for a piece of moldy bread. The sight was yet another reminder of how far he’d come. He allowed himself a few seconds to take in the sights. Then he reminded himself that possessions were nothing unless they could be defended, and he shut the images from his mind.

  He had a man to meet.

  His personal finances had taken a blow since The Agency had attacked his operation on Cayo Placetas. The organization that he’d once commanded—Typhoid—had fallen apart at the seams. While one of his former commanders had taken charge of it, Wolff doubted Typhoid would ever reach its former glory.

  For Wolff, his concerns were of a far more financial nature. His payment for the project on Cayo Placetas had never eventuated, and now he was operating from long-held savings in a bank account on the Cayman Islands.

  He was far from poor, but neither was he as wealthy as he would have liked.

  Mercer Todd’s one hundred million dollars would help to put him back on top, but he couldn’t do it alone. To even start recruiting the team required for the operation, Wolff would need a man with unique abilities.

  So many times in life, Wolff had found, success depended on knowing just the right people.

  If you don’t know the right people, you have to find those who do.

  He chose to walk the short distance to
his hotel. He was staying at The Luxor, the second largest hotel in Las Vegas. Shaped like a pyramid, it was named after the ancient city of Luxor in Egypt. Within, the structure was hollow, lined with hundreds of apartments. Wolff ignored the doorman, strode through the main entrance, and straight to the reception desk.

  Many men would be impressed by this, he thought. But I’m not like many men.

  After booking in, he stashed his single bag into his room before going to the Liquidity Bar located at the center of the Casino floor. The man he was looking for was sitting alone, nursing a drink, and eyeing a group of laughing women at the bar. He noticed Wolff from across the room.

  ‘General Wolff,’ he said. ‘It’s been too long.’

  ‘Mister Tate.’ He shook the man’s hand. ‘And my name is Rudolf Wills.’

  ‘Rudolf Wills,’ Tate mused. ‘It has a ring to it. Certainly better than that name you were using in Afghanistan that time. What was it…’

  ‘Hyde.’ Even Wolff had to laugh at the thought. ‘It seemed a good idea at the time.’

  Both men sipped at their drinks in silence for a moment. There was something that Wolff had forgotten about Tate. He was cold. Not his personality. His skin. Unnaturally cold. His skin had a healthy enough pallor. His eyes were the picture of good health. Yet he always felt clammy to the touch, like the inside of a refrigerator.

  Tate sat his drink down. ‘So you have an operation in the works.’

  Wolff nodded.

  ‘And you need some personnel?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Five or six,’ Wolff said. ‘I’m going up against some modified humans. Six teenagers. But powerful.’

  Tate lapsed into thought for a moment. ‘Five or six should be enough.’

  ‘Are we talking the same kind of associates?’ Wolff asked.

  Tate said a particular word that would have made most people react in horror or burst into disbelieving laughter.

  Wolff did neither. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We’re talking about the same people.’

  Tate glanced at his watch. ‘We need to meet a man at a bar across town. He will arrange the personnel, but we must take along an offer of good faith.’

  Wolff nodded. ‘An offer?’

  ‘A gift,’ Tate confirmed. ‘I’ll arrange it.’

  The two men left the bar. Tate requested his vehicle through valet parking, and a few minutes later, an enclosed van was delivered to the front entrance. Tate took them to one of the more squalid parts of Las Vegas. This part of the city was rarely seen by tourists. It had none of the flashing lights of the main strip. In fact, lights were rare around here.

  Tate stopped the van in a quiet backstreet and produced a tranquilizer gun from the glove compartment. Wolff had never seen one so small; mostly, they were rifles. Then the two men waited. After a few minutes, Wolff noticed a girl striding through the area. Tate delayed until she almost drew level with the van. Then he opened his window and fired once at the back of the girl.

  She gave a small cry, staggered a couple of feet, and collapsed.

  Tate went to her, flung her over his shoulder, and tossed her in the back of the van. He gagged her, then padlocked her hands and feet. Climbing back behind the wheel, he restarted the engine, and they continued down the quiet street.

  The whole abduction had taken less than sixty seconds.

  Wolff turned and glanced through a small window to the back. He couldn’t see the girl. He peered from side to side.

  ‘Where—’

  ‘There is a false floor,’ Tate said. ‘Even if we’re stopped by the police, they will discover nothing.’

  The man thinks of everything, Wolff thought. Good.

  They drove another ten minutes until they reached a bar in another darkened street. Out of half a dozen street lights, only two were working, and even these seemed almost dulled by the constant pressure of the darkness. At first, Wolff couldn’t see any life at all on the street. It looked like every single business had permanently closed its doors. Then he noticed a flickering sign hung over a door: Joe’s Bar.

  A man stood in front of the building. It was impossible to determine if he was a customer or a bouncer. Tate stopped the vehicle outside the bar, and he and Wolff got out. Tate went to the rear of the van, and a moment later emerged with the unconscious girl over his shoulder. The man outside the bar opened the door and allowed them inside.

  Much to Wolff’s surprise, the interior was the image of opulence. The bar itself appeared to be made from mahogany. The chairs were black leather. Floating candles in clear glass bowls decorated the center of each table. Pictures of many of the early movers and shakers of Las Vegas—Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin among them—adorned the walls of the establishment. Music played gently in the background.

  Wolff recognized it as a song by Sammy Davis Jnr.

  Several men and women were sitting and drinking. No-one looked up when they entered. Everyone treated Tate, carrying an unconscious woman through the premises, as if it were the most normal thing on the planet.

  Here it probably is, Wolff thought.

  A man sat alone in a booth at the far end. He looked up when they approached and inclined his head in greeting. Like every other occupant of the bar, he ignored the woman completely.

  ‘Good evening, Mister Tate,’ the stranger said. ‘It’s been too long.’

  ‘It has indeed,’ Tate said. ‘May I introduce my friend, Rudolf Wills? Rudolf, this is Jacob.’

  Jacob. No last name. Possibly he didn’t need one.

  ‘I’m sure there’s no need for falsities around Jacob,’ Wolff said. ‘I am known as Solomon Wolff. You may have heard of me.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Mister Wolff has an operation in the works,’ Tate said. ‘He’s looking for five or six of your people to participate.’

  ‘What sort of operation is it?’ Jacob asked.

  Wolff described it.

  Jacob thought for a moment. Then he said, ‘The price is ten million paid to me. I will distribute the funds accordingly to my associates.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Wolff said.

  He was pleased. This was going better than he expected. At that moment, the unconscious girl gave a shudder. She raised her head, peered about uncertainly, and her eyes filled with alarm. She opened her mouth to scream, but Jacob reached over and placed a forefinger on her lips.

  ‘Look at the flame,’ he said.

  She looked at the flame in the center of the table.

  Amazing, Wolff thought.

  The girl said nothing. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t move a muscle. She simply stared at the flame. She kept her eyes focused on it. She didn’t look away for a second of the fifteen minutes it took Jacob to kill her.

  Sammy Davis Jnr crooned softly in the background the whole time.

  Chapter Six

  Oddly, I wasn’t unhappy about seeing either Mister Jones or Mister Brown. Certainly, none of us trusted Mister Jones as far as we could throw him—and for Ferdy, that was a big distance—but Mister Brown had been my personal trainer. He’d taught me many of the skills I now took for granted. I wouldn’t have survived my time on Cayo Placetas if it weren’t for him. Maybe he or Mister Jones would know why I was having problems with my powers.

  ‘You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to get away from it all,’ Mister Jones said as he followed us into the house. ‘This is about as far away from civilization you can get without living in a cave.’

  ‘I would have preferred somewhere in the city,’ Chad said. ‘But our venerated leader wanted us to stay out of sight.’

  ‘Out of sight is good,’ Mister Jones said. ‘Staying out of sight has kept mods alive for centuries.’

  ‘Mods?’ Brodie asked.

  ‘Mods are humans that have been modified in one way or another,’ Jones said.

  Doctor Sokolov had said there were teenagers before us. She’d said that modifications had been going on for a long time. I thought i
t best to play dumb.

  We all took seats in the living room.

  ‘So, we’re not the first?’ I asked, giving the others a look.

  ‘Not at all,’ Jones replied.

  Brodie had obviously noticed my glance. ‘You didn’t tell us that before,’ she said.

  ‘You didn’t give me a chance,’ Mister Jones said. ‘It’s a shame you left The Agency when you did. We’d barely started your training. There are still so many things for you to learn.’

  ‘I saw how you taught Ferdy,’ I said. ‘That was enough for us.’

  When I’d found Ferdy, he’d been locked in a tiny cell alone under the earth. He’d barely been treated like a human being.

  ‘Sour is one of the basic tastes in the ancient healing science known as Ayurveda,’ Ferdy spoke up. ‘The others are sweet, bitter, salty, pungent, and astringent.’ He looked at both the men. ‘You are Mister Jones, but Ferdy doesn’t know you.’

  ‘I’m Mister Brown,’ the military man said. ‘How are you, Ferdy?’

  ‘Ferdy is fine,’ he replied. ‘The word Mister originates from medieval times.’

  Brown nodded.

  I wasn’t sure how Mister Brown felt about being here. I had the sense he seemed a little uncomfortable. Last time we were on his turf; The Agency’s training ground. Now the shoe was on the other foot.

  ‘What brings you here?’ Ebony asked.

  I was a little surprised to hear Ebony speak. She was often so quiet you forgot she was even in the room. She’d changed a little over the last few months after taking Ferdy under her wing. Maybe the responsibility had made her more confident.

  ‘You expressed some interest in helping The Agency should the need arise,’ Mister Jones said. ‘Something has come up that The Agency’s artificial intelligence system feels you’re best suited to handle.’

  The Agency had an AI system that determined who did what project.

  ‘The need has arisen,’ Jones added.

  Chad laughed. ‘The need has arisen?’ he said. ‘Really? That sounds so dramatic. You can use that when they make the television series.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s not enough need in the world to take me back there. You people tried to kill us last time.’