The Pantheon Saga | Book 5 | Absolute Power

by Ekeke, C. C.

  Greyson appreciated her ministrations. But he was fixated on the visual of Mandrake’s body nailed to the front of El Paso’s Plaza Theater by his wrists.

  Written in Suerte’s blood above the dead hero was following:

  DAMOCLES FOUND THEM UNWORTHY.

  Greyson’s loins stirred. Damocles, his codename. That triumph turned him on more than Connie.

  He flipped his wife over and had his way with her.

  Chapter 4

  Hugo loved every second of flying, especially for leisure.

  Tonight’s all business, Hugo mused, with one desired outcome.

  Destroying Paxton-Brandt. Hatred seared Hugo’s bones as he recounted the lives this malignant corporation had ruined—including his friend Quinn Bauer. Even though Paxton-Brandt was wounded, they weren’t dead. Hugo would do his part to finish them off.

  He hurtled through clouds, arms thrown back, heart racing. A million twinkling stars freckled the night.

  Hugo narrowed the focus of his hypersensitivity to what lay below.

  Three navy blue capsule-shaped drones flew several feet lower, each larger than Hugo’s six-foot-four-inch frame. He recognized the Khamber-Statham military drones in triangle formation high above his target. The five-vehicle transport peeled off the freeway onto an access road, headlights blazing their route ahead.

  All from Paxton-Brandt. The three drones matched the transport’s movements.

  Hugo veered left with them. Blessed with night and telescopic vision, he kept the caterpillar of lights below in sight while it snaked through unlit terrain.

  For that, Hugo felt such relief. The last thing he wanted was to fight Paxton-Brandt on a packed freeway.

  “Almost go time.” Hugo tapped the side of his hood, activating his suit’s phone system. He spoke a name and heard ringing.

  “December to Aegis. Are you in range?” Ezra Michelman asked.

  Hugo had strong, conflicted feelings about Dr. Michelman, aka December. He’d worked at Paxton-Brandt as a top scientist for years. Michelman had secretly turned on his overlords after they’d unlocked the powers of his daughter, Spencer, aka Hugo’s evil ex-girlfriend. For weeks, he’d helped Dr. Michelman target Paxton-Brandt’s US black sites to gather data on their illegally captured human test subjects. The enemy of Hugo’s enemy was his ally? But after weeks of collaboration, Hugo still didn’t trust Michelman.

  Keep things professional. “I have eyes on the target.”

  “Good,” Michelman answered gratefully. “This would be easier if I saw what your suit’s camera sees.”

  Hugo bristled at the request. “No fucking way. Tracking me and the transport will be good enough.”

  Brief, taut silence followed. “Suit yourself,” Michelman said in wooden tones. “How many vehicles?”

  “Five,” Hugo said. “Armored truck flanked by two Hummers front and back. Three Khamber-Statham military drones just below me.” It seized Hugo how normal this was now. Just another night doing the work.

  “Two transports left Paxton-Brandt’s Bakersfield facility,” Michelman said.

  “I know.” Hugo dipped under a fluffy cloud blanket. “The one heading to Fresno is a decoy.”

  “You sure?” Michelman challenged. “Both trucks have soundproof hulls and silencers.”

  Hugo rolled his eyes, already knowing about the silencers. “When both transport trains left the facility, I listened for differences in weight on the road.” Hugo banked a sharp right, staying above the drones. “The transport heading toward Lake Isabella is carrying more mass. Probably several stasis chambers.” Superhearing had its benefits as Hugo kept pushing his limits.

  “Good catch.” The doctor sounded impressed. “And they’re not onto you?”

  Hugo shook his head. “I’m in stealth mode.” Settings in his gauntlets activated a camouflage, rendering him invisible to most forms of detection. “Contact you once I’m done.” He tapped on the side of his hood to end the call, tapping again and speaking another name to dial.

  “Sheriff Foster?” he greeted in his deep Aegis voice.

  “Aegis,” the Kern County sheriff replied flatly. By the background noise, he was driving with a passenger. “Sheriff Redmond told me to expect your call.”

  Allegedly, Foster wasn’t fond of superheroes. But since Hugo wasn’t in SLO County, he had to work with this sheriff for proper jurisdiction. Whatever. “Are you close?”

  “I’m bringing three squad cars,” he said. “We’re on the 58 East five miles from your location.”

  “You should’ve brought more. Be ready,” Hugo said, tapping his hood to end the call.

  He returned his attention far below to the transport roving through dark, rugged landscape.

  Just below him, the trio of deadly drones kept pace with the Paxton-Brandt vehicles, oblivious to his presence. A smirk played across Hugo’s mouth. “Drones first.”

  Thrusting out both fists, he dove with a burst of speed. Reinforced metal hulls shredded like paper around Hugo’s extra-durable frame as he punched through the lead drone. Swelling heat and fire engulfed him. Then Hugo emerged, costume smoking but unharmed.

  The drone, however, plummeted in many blazing pieces.

  Pleased, Hugo twisted around mid-flight to the remaining drones. Both unlocked their weapon banks.

  Hugo opened his mouth and screamed. Waves of unyielding sound rippled the air, smashing the drones. Bright-yellow eruptions lit up the skies. More overpriced, smoldering wreckage fell to earth.

  The transport had to have seen that.

  “Let’s say hello.” Hugo switched off his suit’s stealth mode and dove. Seconds later, the five-car transport grew in size and proximity.

  Hugo shoulder-tackled the lead Hummer; the blow was a cannon echoing across the terrain. The massive SUV bounced off his durable body, dented and tumbling off-road into the dark.

  Hugo U-turned and punched the second Hummer to the right. Another booming strike. Another vehicle flipped over, rolling half a mile off-road onto patchy terrain.

  Hugo landed in a crouch on the dusty road, dirt clouds wafting around him—perfect superhero landing. The armored truck screeched to a halt before him. The two Hummers behind it jarringly followed suit.

  The armored truck engine revved up to plow into Hugo.

  “NOPE.” He slammed both fists through the truck’s grill, clutching a red-hot engine. He yanked it out sideways in a symphony of shredded metal and gushing car fluids.

  The vehicle died instantly, bluish and red fluids gushing from the gaping frontside tear.

  “That looked important.” Hugo chucked the glowing engine away casually, right as flaming tendrils of drone shrapnel rained down around him.

  He marched to the driver’s-side door, ripping it off and flinging that like towel paper. “Hello there—”

  A lanky soldier in all-black body armor and matching helmet greeted him, futuristic-style rifle pointed in his face. The passenger, in matching body armor, also aiming his rifle at Hugo.

  Hugo’s shock lasted a millisecond, quelled by rigorous training.

  As the soldiers fired, he unleashed a sonic scream.

  The sonic shout blasted both out the other side of the car, ripping the door off its hinges.

  “Rude!” Hugo focused his hearing on the overturned Hummers several yards off either side of the road. Five of Paxton-Brandt’s private security in the closest Hummer, six in another. Groans aside, everyone had survived. Hugo took comfort in that, rounding the truck to face the two Hummers behind it.

  Eleven soldiers silhouetted by headlights were waiting, firearms trained on him. Night vision wasn’t needed to tell him those outlines were more Paxton-Brandt soldiers. Despite their weaponry and battle-ready formation, their heartbeats all galloped.

  Hugo almost laughed. But Aegis had to preserve his mean face for intimidation purposes.

  “It’s him!” one soldier’s voice tremored. “Fire!”

  Bursts of searing-red plasma streaked acros
s the night, pounding Hugo’s body. The rifle rounds briefly stung even at low settings. But his costume could take the punishment.

  “Really?” Hugo rumbled. “That just tickles.” Then he moved, reaching his foes in a fraction of a second.

  A palm thrust to the closest soldier rocket-launched him off the road. Hugo zipped toward another soldier, hauling him up by the throat to end his blaster fire. Spinning superfast, he javelin-threw his attacker into four other soldiers. All five collapsed in a tangled heap of grunts and breaking bones.

  Hugo zigzagged through the last six soldiers with a flurry of punches while they almost seemed frozen in place. Well, until Hugo decelerated just behind them.

  Every soldier, returned to normal speed, went flying in several directions.

  Hugo fought down laughter. “That never gets old.” He moved for the rear door of the armored truck. But the presence of a new threat stepping out of the last Hummer turned Hugo around. For the first time tonight, cold fear jolted through him.

  This new foe cut a lanky profile, coal-black in complexion and bald with severe features. At a glance, this man’s vibe was creepy at best, hide your children at worst. But the way his pupils glowed a pale, ethereal white in the dark unveiled his true nature.

  A siphoner. Hugo had only heard of them but never seen one before. Siphoners were rare among supers—and despised. As they drained other supers’ lifeforces and powers with skin-to-skin contact, the communal hatred made sense.

  Whatever fear appeared on Hugo’s face amused the siphoner, revealing a crooked smile.

  “You’re not touching that cargo,” the siphoner grunted, advancing aggressively.

  Hugo snapped out of it, remembering the mission. “You’re not touching me.” He wrenched an armored truck door off with both hands and shoved it in the siphoner’s face.

  As his foe gave a baffled squawk, Hugo leaped and dropkicked the door.

  A jarring clang was married to the cracking of bone against a windshield. The dented door tumbled out of the Hummer’s headlights’ radius and the siphoner slumped off the hood.

  Hugo quickly slapped his spare power inhibitor cuffs on the unconscious siphoner’s wrists.

  Three separate sirens grew closer. Hugo smiled. Then he looked inside the truck’s rear cabin.

  His breath caught. Paxton-Brandt’s depravity never ceased to disturb him.

  “Better work fast.” Hugo hopped into the compartment, pulling a thumb drive from his gauntlet.

  “Oh my God,” were Foster’s first words when he and his officers arrived fifteen minutes later. The stocky sheriff was a tough-as-nails member of law enforcement of two decades. But his jaw dropped as he toured the truck’s interior.

  Six teenagers, probably supers, were floating in tall cylinders filled with yellow fluids. All kinds of tubes protruded from their bodies, hinting at whatever horrid experiments they’d endured.

  Hugo stood at the entrance, watching Foster while listening to the surroundings. Kern County PD was rounding up Paxton-Brandt’s operatives. None put up any more fight.

  Because they’ll get bailed out by morning. Hugo swallowed the anger when Foster faced him, bone-white.

  “Oh. My. God!”

  Hugo recognized that response. “All this is from Paxton-Brandt.”

  Foster hopped out of the truck compartment, shaking his head. “I thought you were being overdramatic. But this?” He whistled, glancing at the skies. “I shoulda brought twice as many squad cars.”

  “Told ya,” Hugo remarked, earning a glare from Foster.

  The sheriff then called for more backup and a CSI team on his walkie.

  Hugo pointed a gloved finger at the touchscreen console rigged to the far-left wall inside the truck. “There should be a computer console for the stasis chambers keeping those kids alive.” Luckily, Hugo had entered Dr. Michelman’s override code before the police arrived to prevent the console from self-erasing. The whole mission would’ve been a waste without the data he’d copied. Even worse, the console self-erasing would have killed those subjects in stasis…like in his previous mission for Michelman. The memory still turned his stomach. He clenched his jaw and forced the guilt back down.

  Foster now spoke with a chubby female deputy about these soldiers needing medical attention.

  Hugo felt no guilt there. “Need anything else?” he asked.

  Foster shook his head. “Thanks.” Gratitude softened the sheriff.

  Hugo replied with a tight smile. “Always.” Crouching slightly, he blasted into the starry skies.

  “Got the data,” Hugo announced to Michelman once he was racing through thick, murky clouds. “Meet at the usual place?”

  “I’m at the Whitestone property in Paso,” the doctor answered.

  That surprised Hugo. Usually they met after their Paxton-Brandt takedowns at Michelman’s underground bunker out of town. The last time Hugo had visited Whitestone had been this summer…with Spencer.

  The recollection tugged at Hugo’s heart. Whatever. He hung a right over the encroaching expanse of lights. San Miguel, the City of Wonder.

  He soon arrived over Paso Robles’s well-lit sprawl. Michelman owned two wineries in San Miguel’s largest suburb, the heart of San Luis Obispo County’s wine country.

  Hugo landed noiselessly in the backyard of Whitestone Vineyards’ ivory-walled Victorian main house. He pushed away memories of enjoying time spent here with Spencer.

  Dr. Michelman waited by the back door. He wasn’t tall, with neatly trimmed wavy hair and a narrow face. Yet under his blue button-down and khakis, the retired superhero’s wiry build was obvious.

  After exchanging greetings, Hugo handed him one of two thumb drive copies he’d made. “I’ll get you footage from my costume’s cam tomorrow.”

  Michelman studied the thumb drive, then Hugo. “Good work. And you can drop the Aegis voice, kid.”

  His mocking tone warmed Hugo’s cheeks. Mom, Simon, and J-Tom had teased him for carelessly using the Aegis voice around them.

  Michelman pocketed the thumb drive and moved back inside. “This data will do wonders in building a case against Steve Olin and Paxton-Brandt.”

  This brought a nagging concern as Hugo followed him. “About that…” he said in his normal voice, entering a spacious, well-lit kitchen with a table island. In the living room, a TV with National News Network on showed vicious hurricanes devastating South Carolina. Flooded streets and Charleston's superhero team Future Force cleaning up dominated the screen.

  “When is PB going down?” After six weeks and five stealth missions, Hugo wanted results.

  “Soon,” Michelman stated without looking back.

  Hugo scoffed impatiently. “Such precision!”

  Michelman stopped and sighed. He turned, massaging his wrinkled forehead. “It’s very complex.”

  The doctor’s condescension deserved a backhand. Hugo got in Michelman’s face, towering over him. “Then use small words,” he snarled.

  Michelman immediately stepped back, hands raised. “Not what I meant.” His voice softened. “Black Wednesday and the disastrous SLOCO Daily buy hurt Paxton-Brandt severely.”

  “And losing so many government contracts.” Hugo loved calling that out.

  Michelman nodded, also amused. “But they still have lots of tentacles and capital across the globe.

  “Meaning what?”

  “To dismantle Paxton-Brandt,” the doctor explained, “my case against them has to be a killshot.”

  In short, no timeframe. Hugo prickled at the non-answer. Michelman’s secrety-secret missions were getting riskier, and Hugo was taking all the risks. If not for Hugo exposing the megacorp’s unethical projects, he knew Paxton-Brandt would’ve retaliated by now. And that would derail his mission to protect San Miguel right as it’d begun.

  “Fuck that!” It baffled Hugo how Michelman had been Titan’s best friend, let alone a superhero.

  “I’m done.” He whirled around to leave and fly home. “Call me whe
n Paxton-Brandt is cancelled.” It was almost eleven p.m., and he had homework to finish.

  “She’s upstairs.”

  Hugo froze. “Here?” He hated that Spencer still affected him so viscerally.

  Michelman had his daughter under house arrest after learning that she’d been capturing supers for Paxton-Brandt. The Michelmans put the “fun” in dysfunctional. “At the vineyards?”

  “I’m spending time with her before she goes to Verdant in three weeks.”

  Hugo suddenly couldn’t find his voice.

  Ezra leaned against the kitchen island. Under the lights, he looked haggard. “I won’t suppress her powers again. But after what she’s done…Steinholt Academy is a no-go. Maybe Verdant can help.”

  Hugo knew of Verdant Correctional Academy by reputation, and the teen TV series Northgate High loosely based on its inner drama. The Cincinnati-based school for adolescent supers from bad circumstances regarding their powers. Spencer was leaving San Miguel for good.

  “Do you want to see her?” Michelman asked with a weary smile.

  Hugo almost said yes. Then fear of Spencer’s anger, her hatred, her rejection, took over. “No,” he decided, and strode out of the estate without waiting for a reply. The sooner he left, the faster Hugo could escape the regrets.

  And on the flight home, the night grew colder.

  Much later, Hugo lay in his bed, wearing only boxer-briefs, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, still stuck on Spencer. You should’ve said goodbye. Remorse ran deep. Right then, his “conversation” with Titan in Alaska came to mind. His bio-dad said memory walking could be done from afar.

  Maybe… Hugo focused his thoughts on Spencer: the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful.

  His bedroom washed away…and Hugo found himself back at Whitestone, nighttime again. Wearing a white tee and jeans, he found himself being led by the hand up a winding stairwell.

  I’m in Spencer’s memories. Hugo’s long-distance memory walking worked. But which memory?

  Then Hugo saw her, giving his heart a horrible lurch.

  Spencer’s back was facing him while she led Hugo upstairs in a skintight negligee of flowing cream fabric, glossy black bob falling to neck length.