by C. C. Ekeke
Quinn had heard enough. “You have the nerve to call yourself a hero?” she exploded.
Morningstar looked taken aback. “I rid the world of a predator masquerading as a protector of justice.” Indignant, she rested a hand on her chest. “I’m the good guy.”
Quinn gaped, seeing no redeemable qualities in Alexis Refel. “You’re a monster! What Titan did to you was reprehensible. But you murdered innocent people, betrayed teammates.” Quinn folded her arms in satisfaction. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison, Alexis.”
Morningstar had the nerve to chuckle. “Wrong again, Quinn. See, I took a jolt of XS before coming here. As a precaution.” The superhero crackled pinkish and yellow with power.
Quinn’s heart skipped. Alexis was stalling while she overcame the suppressants.
“Run!” Geist ordered in her earpiece.
She came very close to swearing as she backpedaled and yanked out the gun.
A whistle of steel sang from the dark, right before Quinn felt stabbing pain. She cried out, the gun knocked from her grasp by a thin pipe, skittering out of sight.
Before Quinn could cradle her injured hand, her limbs got pulled open and splayed out.
“Ya know what sucks?” Morningstar approached, looking sad. “I respect you as a journalist, Quinn. And I really like you. But you keep getting in my way.” She shook her head. “And I’ve risked too much to become the hero this world deserves.”
Clattering metal drew Quinn’s attention beyond Morningstar. Dozens of thin pipes hovered off the ground, giving off a dull sheen in the cluttered space.
This idea was stupid, Quinn realized, breath caught in her throat.
Morningstar’s eyes sparkled while beckoning with her fingers. The floating pipes shivered across the room at frightening speeds—hurtling at Quinn.
And she screamed.
Chapter 42
“Now!” Quinn shouted.
Then came Geist’s guttural command. “Run, Hugo, run!”
Hugo rocketed out of hiding, everything around him slowing to a crawl.
Morningstar stretched a hand out, her pretty face contorted by hate. Several metal pipes she’d magnetically hurled whistled in slow motion toward the helpless reporter way across the room. Hugo grimaced and pushed himself, reaching Quinn in half a second. She was wide-eyed and frozen, inches from death. Hugo almost grabbed her, then slowed and assessed.
At his blistering speed, he might rip Quinn apart trying to grab her.
Hugo slowed just enough to not collide into Quinn, a long pipe scrunching against his back muscles and slashing through his shirt. The impact was cold on his unyielding skin. Hooking Quinn gingerly by the waist, Hugo raced back to his hiding spot, leaving a dusty trail.
The world sped back up to normal when he stopped, slapping a hand over Quinn’s squealing mouth.
Across the room, several pipes speared into the wall.
Morningstar stumbled back in surprise. “¿Qué carajo?”
Hugo watched her frenzied gaze sweep all over the room, searching.
“Your speedster, Quinn?” A demented smile split Morningstar’s face. “No matter. I’ll bring this whole building down to silence you both. Titan couldn’t stop me. You won't either!”
Hugo felt Quinn trembling in his arms. She looked as terrified as he felt.
Morningstar being Titan’s killer was horrible enough. But her claims of Titan’s behavior left Hugo physically ill. Combined with still growing claims of Titan’s promiscuity, Hugo couldn’t ignore this. Hundreds of angry buzzing bees filled his brain while he crouched in the dark holding Quinn.
“Come out, come out, Quinn!” Morningstar raised her hands like some prophet addressing a congregation. The way she leered, wild golden locks spilling everywhere, made her look unhinged. “Last chance, before I tear this building to its foundations!”
Beside Hugo, Quinn made a faint whimper. Now Geist had to do his thing.
Soon, Hugo heard the rustle of Geist’s trench coat. The vigilante dropped from the rafters, a shadow moving with unnatural grace. He aimed two non-ferrous pistols at Morningstar from behind with bullets that could injure her.
But Morningstar spun frighteningly quick before Geist could fire. With a swift hand chop, five pipes whistled at him.
Geist backflipped twice over the hurtling tubes, vanishing into the shadows again.
“Should’ve minded your business, Midnight Son,” Morningstar snarled. A plethora of stray metal objects leaped off the ground and out of walls. “Now you’ll never see another sunrise.”
Quinn clung to Hugo tighter. “Help him,” she pleaded quietly.
Quinn was right. Morningstar would kill Geist without remorse. Hugo let Quinn go and raced to the other end of the room, keeping to the shadows.
As he racked his brain on how to help, a crazed idea popped up. It might fail, but something had to be done. “Morningstar!” Hugo roared, sounding nothing like himself.
Morningstar froze. “No…” Recognition and dread seized her. “I killed you!”
Hugo sagged in relief, continuing his impersonation. “Think you'd get away with your crimes?”
He heard Quinn gasp from her hiding spot. Even Geist inhaled in surprise. Morningstar was trembling. Every floating object dropped in a discordant, clanging symphony.
Got her. Hugo continued, buying Geist time. “How can you call yourself a hero after murdering me? Framing Lord Borealis?” His anger underscored each crime he listed. “Trying to frame a fourteen-year-old?”
Morningstar blinked, shaking her head.
Hugo offered a soft chuckle, just like Titan would do during interviews. “But no matter how many bodies you bury, Alexis…” An edge of menace slipped into his voice. “...justice is coming for you.”
Morningstar purpled in fury. “I am justice! I’m the hero!” she roared, pointing at herself. A flurry of pipes and metal shards flew in Hugo’s direction. “You and the Vanguard are corrupt cowards!”
Hugo zoomed away at the last second. The pipes and shards struck a barren wall. Three ear-piercing gunshots rang out.
Morningstar arched her back, crying bloody murder.
Hugo spied Geist crouching behind Morningstar, pistols drawn. His red eyes gleamed triumphantly.
“Plastic bullets,” the vigilante snarled. “Got more where those came from.”
Hugo exploded forward, ramming Morningstar head-on. He didn’t pull his blow too much. Morningstar grunted and went flying like a limp crash-test dummy. She landed on her upper back, folding up accordion-style.
Hugo dashed toward Morningstar and flipped her body over. Pulling dampening handcuffs from his pockets, he slapped them around her wrists. Morningstar lay face-down with both hands shackled behind her back. “She's cuffed.”
Geist emerged from the shadows near Hugo, silent as a wraith. He studied Morningstar, then Hugo. “Nice,” he growled.
Hugo nodded, still processing everything. Quinn limped toward them with a pained expression.
Hugo panicked. “Did I hurt you?”
“Wasn’t you.” Quinn waved off his concern, staring down at Morningstar with pure loathing. “Just glad Crazypants here got captured.”
Hugo turned to Geist for answers. “Now what?”
“Justice,” the vigilante rumbled.
Hugo’s blood ran cold. “You’re gonna kill her?”
“No!” Geist’s glower made him shrink back. The vigilante turned to Quinn. “Got the confession?”
“Do birds shit on cars?” said Geist’s mysterious tech guy in Hugo’s earpiece.
Quinn smiled grimly. “Not sure if it’s permissible in court.”
Geist didn’t seem concerned. Then again, Geist’s default emotions with that mask were indifference and rage. “We have Ramon’s and Quinn’s testimonies. Plus, one more.”
Hugo frowned at Quinn, who also seemed flummoxed. Who?
Geist tapped his mask where his left ear would be. “Clint, anything from
Blackjack on the other thing?”
Quinn’s questioning gaze lingered on Hugo. “You sounded like Titan. How did you do that?”
His cheeks warmed. “Another of my powers. Figured Titan was still Morningstar’s kryptonite.”
Quinn marveled at him, her kinky hair swaying in wafting breezes. “That’s twice you saved me.”
Hugo shrugged, skin tingling. AJ was right. How is this my life? “It’s what any decent person would do.”
Quinn arched an eyebrow. “You’d be shocked how much 'decent' people won’t do.”
Her cast-iron certainty unsettled Hugo. Before he could reply, Geist motioned him over. Despite Hugo being three inches taller and vastly more powerful, the vigilante seemed ten feet tall. Even out of the shadows, Geist remained cloaked in darkness. “OSA and the Vanguard are coming,” he said. “I can keep you off their radar if you go now.”
Hugo’s stomach lurched. “Right.” Not wanting on any federal agency’s radar, he turned to depart.
“Also…” Geist caught his arm. “Bishop Station. Vancouver. 9:35 PM.”
Hugo frowned at him. “What?”
“Lau woke this morning. She’s headed for Bishop Station now.”
Surprise jolted through Hugo. “How…?” Then the truth struck. “Presley’s the third witness.”
Geist nodded. “My associates offered her a clean slate for information on Titan’s killer. Lau gave us everything, including her telepath friend’s role in Titan’s death. We’ll continue watching her even after she reaches Canada,” he said.
Hugo felt lightheaded and relieved at once. “Presley’s at Bishop Station?” he whispered.
“I’m telling you because of your help tonight,” Geist replied. “Go say your goodbyes.”
Hugo sank to a crouch and cradled his head. Presley’s awake…
A rumble in the sky like thunder interrupted his joy. Hugo looked up. “A jet.”
Geist’s blood-red eyes narrowed. “The V-Jet. The Vanguard's here.” He waved the Samoan off. “Go!”
Barely able to breathe, Hugo zoomed away.
He reached his destination in minutes but had to slow to normal running speed half a mile away. Too many eyes.
Bishop Station was massive and sprawling, sleek walls and state-of-the-art everything. It served as a hub for San Miguel’s trains and connections to SMAT subway lines.
Getting to the Vancouver platform through commuter traffic, at jogging speed, took Hugo twenty minutes.
Twelve minutes till departure. As the seconds ticked away, Hugo’s panic soared.
Eight minutes. Hugo paced the platform. No sign of Presley or her scent. Had she bailed?
Five minutes. The train’s doors were about to close. Hugo glanced at the monitors. Another train to Vancouver left at 10:20 PM. Maybe she’d exchanged her ticket for that time.
Hugo turned to leave, and saw her.
Presley scurried into the train farther down the platform, wearing a grey hoodie and sweatpants. She looked pale, the San Miguel Outlaws cap pulled down low.
Hugo’s legs were moving toward her on instinct.
He reached the door she’d entered...and drew a blank on what to say. Ask her to stay? Not an option.
Go with her? No, Hugo could never abandon Mom and AJ. Apologize? How could Presley ever forgive him for what happened? Hugo had to say something. Their last words had been her pleading for help halfway across town.
And Hugo wasn't fast enough to save her.
He watched Presley making her way through the passenger car. What should I do? he contemplated. What do I say? She glanced around for empty seats. When her eyes found Hugo, she froze and gaped.
Hugo felt punched through the heart. He tensed to race on that train and…do what?
But Presley’s blank expression gave him pause. Was that fear? Hatred?
Hugo quivered in anxious energy, considering his options again—reaching the only sensible one. Let her go. Anything but permanent separation would be selfish.
Hugo raised a hand, waved goodbye. Anguish spasmed through him.
Presley looked like she’d swallowed a ghost pepper, returning the wave with a sad smile.
The train doors hissed closed. Then the train lurched into motion, slow at first, before whooshing away from the platform.
Tunnel winds rushed over Hugo as the train’s rear lights shrank into the darkness.
Then he broke. Tears blurred his vision, spilling freely. Emotions bubbled up from his throat—rage, hatred, love, guilt. The grief was a tidal wave, staggering Hugo back into a pillar.
Grief for the deaths of Nikilesh, Paul, Vargas, Gabby, and Thin Shady.
Grief for the girl who’d helped him regain his smile and accepted every part of him.
Grief for the fleeting love he and Presley had shared.
Hugo’s legs folded beneath him. Slumping to a seat on the empty train platform, he let an ocean of sorrows out, not caring who saw.
As the train pulled farther away, Presley’s sobs faded. Soon, the only sobs Hugo could hear were his own.
Chapter 43
“You know you’re an idiot, right?” Therese scolded, bandaging up Quinn’s swollen hand.
She smirked, holding her hand out patiently. “I’ve been called worse.” Quinn sat in a random office chair on the dilapidated building’s floor. The adrenaline rush from tonight had worn off, making her realize how bad her hand throbbed from that metal pipe. At first, Quinn thought it was broken. Thankfully, Geist did a quick examination, seeing just a sprain.
The vigilante called Longshadow shook her hooded head. “Geist, me, or Hugo should’ve handled Refel.” She tightened the bandage. Quinn grimaced. “You don’t have powers or combat training.”
The worry underlining Therese’s scolding charmed Quinn. “Alexis could’ve clammed up or lawyered up with you or any other hero,” she explained. “I wasn’t a threat to her. Hence why we got a confession.” Quinn took in the scene around her, still dazed over Titan’s real killer getting captured.
The floor swarmed with activity. Helicopter floodlights circling the building chased away the shadows from this cluttered level. The Vanguard had arrived in the V-Jet minutes after Hugo’s departure. Now Seraph, Robbie Rocket, and Vulcan stood around a handcuffed and kneeling Morningstar several feet away. OSA agents in full tactical gear flanked the supers interrogating her.
Wyldcat paced like a caged lioness nearby, watching Morningstar with murderous eyes. Quinn’s heart ached for her. Learning your teammate killed your lover?
Geist and Sentinel faced off, total opposites. The brooding, trench coat-wearing vigilante was in heated debate with the rigid, military-costumed supersoldier.
A painful squeeze on her fingers jarred Quinn out of her eavesdropping. “Oww!” she yelped, withdrawing her wounded hand.
“Finished.” Therese stood. “How’s that feel?”
Quinn scrutinized her bandaged hand. “Still hurts,” she complained, in a mood to sass the archer.
“Good,” Therese retorted, arms folded. “Remember that next time you try playing the hero.”
Quinn smirked hearing that. “You sound like Annie…” The name caught in her throat, more painful than her injured hand. Quinn quickly returned attention to Sentinel and Geist’s debate. That had devolved into a shouting match with big, angry gesturing. A welcome distraction.
“I'm guessing Geist and Sentinel aren't friends,” she remarked.
Therese glanced over her shoulder. “Those two? Hate at first fight, which Geist won. But I never told you that.” The archer winked.
Quinn guffawed. She grasped how someone as unorthodox as Geist rankled a boy scout like Sentinel.
Speaking of raised voices, Wyldcat’s drew everyone’s attention. The British superhero advanced toward Morningstar. “I only need ten minutes alone with her,” she declared.
Seraph blocked her path, speaking softly.
“Fine, five minutes,” Wyldcat cried, slowly backpedaling. “Five minut
es!” Obviously, Seraph didn’t allow that. So Wyldcat did a nimble spin around her and lunged at her ex-teammate, claws out. She would’ve reached her if Robbie Rocket hadn't tackled Wyldcat.
Quinn popped up from her seat. “Oh, good lord!”
OSA agents immediately surged forward and dragged Morningstar away. Wyldcat nearly squirmed free from Rocket’s grip when Sentinel bearhugged her. Wyldcat thrashed and kicked, helpless against the supersoldier’s unyielding strength.
With Sentinel occupied, Geist stalked back to Quinn. He studied her up and down. “You did good,” Geist remarked, guttural and blunt.
Quinn valued the compliment, but her worry remained. “Hugo stays anonymous, right?” She’d misjudged him. The last thing she wanted was his life getting ruined.
Geist nodded. “Clint delivered the audio of your Morningstar interrogation.”
She sighed, happy to hear both. That audio would be essential once she wrote about Morningstar’s downfall. As for Hugo, he reminded her of a young Titan. Before becoming a cape-chasing pig. Quinn felt a stitch of regret in her chest. “I’m sorry for what you heard about Titan.”
“Why?” Geist remarked coldly. “Titan was the asshole who abused his power.”
Quinn leaned away from the abrupt dismissal. Then again, she shouldn’t have been surprised.
Therese gestured behind them as OSA agents filled the other side of the room and carried Morningstar away. “This place is getting crowded.”
Geist nodded and strode toward the windows.
Therese trailed him, twirling her bow. She looked back with a grin that lingered. “Bye, Quinn Bauer.”
“Bye, Longshadow.” The archer’s smile made Quinn’s cheeks warm again. Why, she couldn’t guess.
With that, Geist and Therese leaped out an open window and plummeted from sight.
Quinn cringed, despite knowing they’d land safely. Various OSA agents ran over, squawking in protest.
“Why didn’t you stop them?” a female agent yelled at Quinn.
“Isn’t that your job?” she snarked.
