by Ekeke, C. C.
“My attempts kept bouncing off high-level encryptions I’ve never seen before.” His voice brightened. “On a positive note, checking the data logs, that attack on you was user error.”
Hugo stood in bafflement. “The thief is effective, incompetent, and a stalker?” So, they had no leads.
“Seems like it,” Ramon replied blandly. “I’ll keep looking. How are you?”
Hugo rubbed at his face in frustration. “I’m insta-famous at school.” The Aegis rescue had made the local news two days ago. When school started this Monday, Paso High students had badgered him for details about Aegis.
At least Taylor von Stratton, Songs cheerleading captain, had asked how he was and gave him a big hug. Then she’d hassled Hugo about the size of Aegis’s arms.
“We didn’t go on a romantic beach walk,” Hugo had quipped, drawing laughs. He’d then complimented his alter ego, which felt bizarre.
Ramon giggled listening to this. “You swept yourself off your feet.” He stopped laughing when Hugo growled at him. “This should blow over by afternoon with how ADD kids are.”
Hugo sighed. “Here’s hoping.”
“Ooh. One more thing,” Ramon added. “Are you cool with Jen coming to my place twice a week? I want to teach her more about building and maintaining her own the Arclight armor.”
That brought a smile to Hugo’s face. “Absolutely. Thanks for believing in her.”
“I believe in her because of you.”
After the call ended, Hugo shouldered his backpack and dialed up his hearing. The coast was clear. He slipped out of the storage unit, locking the door. No student visited this part of campus, but he remained vigilant.
When Hugo reached the Quad, countless stares turned his way. Ugh. He ignored them and headed toward his friends.
“There he is!” Harlan Mills swaggered by, slapping Hugo on the back. His fellow basketball teammates, Brent and Cody Banks, approached, snickering.
Cody, husky in frame and rotten in spirit, still sported his shaggy “midlife crisis mom” hair. Why are he and Brent hanging out again? Hugo wondered.
“How was it?” Harlan asked. “Being the dude in distress?”
Hugo shrugged. “I’ll tell ya once Paso High wins a basketball championship.”
Harlan stopped smiling. The team’s failure to reach last year’s playoffs still stung.
Brent and Danny guffawed before ushering their salty teammate along.
Hugo watched them cross the Quad as Brent resumed a story. “I kissed Chloe first. I used my being upset over Hugo getting nabbed. I win the bet!” Brent smugly held out a hand. His grumbling teammates reached for their wallets.
Hugo’s stomach turned. “What the hell?” Either Brent’s basketball bros were rubbing off on him or they were showing his true self. Either way, Hugo and Brent needed to talk soon.
His gaze landed on Brie and Jodie seated on a table flanked by their friends. Jodie’s silky curls cascaded down her shoulders, complementing her jean jacket and little black dress. Brie looked gorgeous with her high ponytail, white blouse, leather pants, and white-rimmed glasses. She and Brie were chatting up Grace about vintage clothing. Hugo had texted with Jodie yesterday, but Brie never returned his messages. That bothered him pointedly.
Hugo approached, greeting his friends. Their lingering concern was appreciated. Simon was working on another school-commissioned website. J-Tom was at a student council meeting.
Jodie bounced from her seat and gave him a big kiss, much to his friends’ ridicule. “Hi!” She enfolded his waist.
Hugo smiled plastically, recalling how Jodie almost dumped him on Saturday. He turned to Brie. “Hey.”
She saw him and frosted over. “Hi, Hugo.” Brie sounded annoyed with the interaction.
“You doing better?” Hugo continued. “I didn’t hear back from you this weekend.”
Brie slid off the table, reaching for her bag. “Me and Ramses moved my stuff into my dad’s place.”
“Oh. I could’ve helped—”
“Hugo,” Brie cut him off curtly. “Just stop.”
Hugo exchanged uneasy glances with Grace and Jordana. “Stop…having a conversation?”
Briseis’s pale-green eyes held such raw emotions. But she quickly put on a blank, beautiful mask. “Forget it,” she murmured. “I can’t do this right now.” She spun, almost smacking Groban with her school bag, and marched off.
Hugo stood there, dumbstruck. “What just happened?”
“Breezy isn’t sleeping well.” Jodie leaned close. “What happened at the carnival gave her nightmares.”
Hugo’s stomach knotted up. “Oh.” Writing this off as Brie being dramatic would’ve been easy. But her rejection left him feeling small, unworthy—a flashback to their relationship before tenth grade. Hugo refused to revisit that toxic mindset. Then again, who knew what ran through Brie’s mind after the carnival incident?
“I’ll talk to her,” Jodie assured as the bell ending Snack rang. Students swarmed toward third period.
“See you at lunch?” she suggested with a sexy smile.
“I guess,” Hugo replied blandly. He really needed to hit something.
Jordana looked put off. “Are you okay?”
The buzz in Hugo’s pocket from his work cellphone was a godsend. Yes! “Peachy.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Later, babe.”
Hugo checked his phone while walking to class, ignoring more comments about Aegis rescuing him.
BLOCKED: Update on V3.
Hugo’s excitement soared as he called Clint. “Got your message.”
“Found ya boy,” Clint boasted. “Vincent Van Violence is definitely in San Miguel.”
Hugo smiled from ear to ear. Exactly the face he needed to punch. “Where and when?”
By the time Hugo stood outside his third period class, Clint had delivered V3’s whereabouts the last few days and his current location.
Hugo could handle this himself, using the tried and true “family emergency” excuse to get out of class. Then Hugo considered how V3’s capture could need backup. He moved into an isolated hallway nook and dialed another number on his encrypted cell.
Dawson answered after two rings. “Hello, Aegis.”
“Detective,” Hugo stated quietly in his Aegis voice. “I have a lead on V3.”
By fourth period’s end, Beale had amassed the resources to move on Vincent Van Violence. Also, many students no longer cared about Aegis rescuing Hugo. The big news across campus was that nutjob Saracen’s latest data dump revealed the OSA’s black sites for holding criminal supers.
As soon as the lunch bell rang, Hugo jogged toward his gear stash, suited up, then sprinted downtown. Time to kick some ass.
Within minutes, he reached Dawson’s location between downtown and The Junction.
The makeshift staging ground occupied a gutted warehouse. The interior was filled with San Miguel PD’s Superhuman Task Force slipping on vests, cleaning firearms, prepping for war.
Hugo exchanged greetings with San Miguel’s finest, finding Beale and Dawson at the monitors watching the tavern across the street.
“Did a quick casing,” he told Beale. “The surrounding block is clear aside from drones.”
Dawson nodded. “We got one of our own in the meeting.”
Onscreen showcased a small gathering in black-and-white between members of the criminal underworld. Half a dozen heavies in tracksuits were packing firepower, hard-bitten and solemn. A pair of slender, attractive twins occupied the bar, scanning the scene. Were they eye candy or muscle? In one corner booth sat a man with a pockmarked face and an impeccable suit. Yuri Broytman, a captain in the Ukrainian Brotherhood.
Hugo cared more about the man sitting across from him.
“There,” Dawson murmured, pointing.
Hugo tensed. Vince Van Violence, baby-blue-skinned and bald, taking up the whole chair with his massive physique. At six-feet-nine inches, insanely strong and burly, he was a walking mac truck. Hugo flas
hed on their first conflict and nearly getting decapitated by V3’s punches.
Now Hugo was stronger and more experienced. I still need to be careful.
“V3’s done business with the Brotherhood before,” Detective concluded. “He’s probably asking for protection in exchange for his services.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “How did you find V3?”
Hugo offered the threat of a smile. “My eyes and ears around town.”
New footsteps entered the staging ground. Hugo turned and squinted. “Is that—?”
Detective followed his stare. “Ballistic,” he confirmed. “Another local hero we coordinate with.”
The man codenamed Ballistic approached the monitors, sporting a spare and wiry gymnast’s body. His gold-and-blue costume resembled a speedskater suit, a translucent green visor covering his eyes.
Hugo knew Ballistic by reputation, a superhuman vigilante operating in Nipomo as part of Geist’s vigilante network.
“Hey,” Hugo greeted.
Ballistic nodded, several inches shorter. “Nice to meet the new kid on the block. Hope you got it.”
Hugo didn’t enjoy his mocking tone. “Got what?”
Ballistic grinned cheekily. “The right stuff.”
Hugo stared at him.
Beale and Dawson took to the center of the small staging ground. “We do this quick and clean. Aegis takes down V3.” He gestured at Hugo behind him.
“Ballistic can handle any other supers present,” Dawson pointed to Ballistic. “We handle the others.” The room rippled with various agreements.
Hugo watched the Superhuman Taskforce move into position. God, he felt giddy. And scared. He extended a fist to Ballistic. “Ready?”
The vigilante fist-bumped him. “Hangin’ tough.”
Dawson handed Hugo a set of dampener restraints, which he hooked to his belt.
“Ready. Set. MOVE!” Beale hissed.
Hugo grabbed Ballistic under the armpits and hurtled forward. They’d have mere seconds before the Ukrainian Brotherhood’s drones spotted them. He flew low, straight for the tavern’s entrance.
He let Ballistic go and barreled ahead.
The door burst into splinters against his fists. Everyone and everything moved in slow-mo. Yuri Broytman slowly shielded his face. Rage gradually contorted Vincent Van Violence’s hideous mug. Yuri’s men were pulling out firearms.
Hugo sailed straight for V3. One swing to the stomach folded him up like cheap paper. Another uppercut knocked him head over heels. V3 dropped flat on his face with a hard thud.
Hugo landed astride his dazed foe, triumphant.
Broytman and his thugs then aimed their weapons at him. And the sexy twins abruptly…multiplied.
Hugo now saw eight identical women. “A duplicator?”
Ballistic somersaulted through the wrecked entrance then, landing in a crouch. The vigilante tossed three small silver marbles at frightening speeds. One marble struck the ground in front of a group of Broytman’s heavies. A heatless discharge sent shockwaves outward, blasting those flunkies into unconsciousness. That was Ballistic’s power, charging objects with kinetic energy to erupt on impact.
Another metallic marble snapped the lead duplicator’s head back with sickening force, then smacked off the other women’s temples. All eight crumpled.
A deafening thunderclap went off right in Hugo’s ear. Yuri Broytman shot him in the head. Annoying.
Hugo reached left without looking and flicked Broytman’s jaw. A grunt followed by a body hitting the floor confirmed he was unconscious.
SMPD stormed the bar, Dawson and Beale leading the charge with guns drawn. “Everyone on the ground! NOW.”
V3 tried fighting upright. Hugo drove a knee to the back of his neck, bringing him back down.
The big man flailed. “Get off me!”
Hugo grabbed one of V3’s thrashing arms. He itched to just wrench back and break it. But why? Hugo had him pinned. “Don’t make this harder,” he whispered in the criminal’s ear.
V3, realizing he’d lost, slumped in defeat. Hugo kept hold of his arm while reaching for his handcuffs.
Dawson and Beale surveyed the scene as their team cuffed the many unconscious foot soldiers.
Dawson knelt beside the unconscious women lying in a heap. “Wasn’t expecting Myriad.”
Hugo looked up. He’d heard of Myriad, a one-woman army for hire to criminal orgs. She’d never been caught until today. “A two-for-one special,” Hugo quipped, reaching for V3’s arm with his cuffs. He’d wanted more of a fight. “That was easy—”
The wall beside him exploded apart, concrete debris flying everywhere.
Dust rolled over everything as an imposing man in orange and black emerged, cape flapping.
“Nobody fear! Tomorrow Man’s here.” The timing was catastrophic.
“Fuck this!” V3 threw Hugo off violently and bolted for the door, bowling over several STF officers.
Hugo swore and scrambled to his feet.
Beale coughed and waved away smoke. “Idiot!” he barked at Tomorrow Man. “You ruined it!”
“I’m on it!” Hugo zoomed outside the bar in seconds.
Vincent Van Violence dashed toward a more populated area.
Hugo wouldn’t allow that. He sped up, closing the distance—until someone grabbed his ankle.
“V3’s mine!” Suddenly, Hugo got swung like a pendulum. Concrete shattered against his face.
Stunned, Hugo flipped onto his back and gaped. “Are you shitting me?”
Tomorrow Man loomed over him. “You’re not stealing this win.” He sailed in with a haymaker right.
Hugo easily moved, and the blow shattered more concrete.
But Tomorrow Man kept on him with a barrage of furious punches. And V3 had disappeared. Fuck!
Hugo shoved Tomorrow Man off. “What are you doing? V3 is getting away!” He turned to chase V3 and got suckerpunched in the jaw. That stung like a motherfucker. Hugo went tumbling down the road.
“This victory is mine!” Tomorrow Man cried, charging forward. His bulging blue eyes made him look unhinged. “Now I prove who’s better!”
As Tomorrow Man dove in for another attack, several anguished shrieks rang out.
Hugo sprang to his feet, catching Tomorrow Man’s fist.
He swung with his right. Hugo caught that too.
“Fuck your quarter-life crisis!” Hugo headbutted Tomorrow Man in the nose, staggering him backward. A punt to the crotch buckled Tomorrow Man’s knees, his face scrunched in agony.
Hugo then bearhugged Tomorrow Man and bridged back, tossing him overhead into a car. The impact folded the vehicle in two. Tomorrow Man slumped to all fours. More screams sounded nearby.
The more Hugo glared at this selfish moron with his stupid cape, the angrier he got.
Leaping several feet up, he stomped his foot down hard on the back of Tomorrow Man’s stupid head.
A loud crunch married with a shockwave quaked the concrete in all directions.
Tomorrow Man lay facedown in a small crater, breathing but not moving. Good.
Hugo dashed toward the fading screams in Grant Square blocks away.
He found civilians panicking and teeming around something.
Hugo flew closer for a better look, and the warmth left his soul. “Oh no…”
Four bodies lay across the sidewalk, a young couple flattened by massive footprints. Two teen boys were contorted in sickening angles. Several bystanders pointed where V3 had gone.
But Hugo could smell V3’s stench and raced off in pursuit.
Hugo spotted him at the other end of Grant Square escaping into an alley.
He’s not escaping this… Hatred running through his veins, he spear-tackled V3 from behind.
“Murdering shitbag!” Hugo drove V3 up into the air, away from civilians. Finding a vacant rooftop, he flung his opponent down.
Hugo landed and advanced angrily. “There’s no escape!”
Vincent Van Violence stumbled to h
is full height and just stared. “Am I supposed to care who you are?”
Hugo flinched. Of course V3 didn’t recognize him. When they’d last fought, Hugo had a totally different costume. “You will.” He launched himself forward. But V3 was ready, catching Hugo by the throat. A meaty fist to the chest drove the wind out of him.
“Like I thought.” V3 body-slammed him down. Pain roiled up Hugo’s spine.
“All bark, no bite.” V3 rained down fast and furious punches on his face. He struck like an avalanche!
Hugo’s jaw screamed under the barrage. He cursed himself for losing his cool, embarrassed that this fucker got the upper hand again. Even worse, a news chopper high above was recording the humiliating beatdown.
V3 wrapped both hands around Hugo’s throat and squeezed. His cruel grin revealed yellow teeth. “Thanks for the tune-up…whoever you are.”
The ridicule crackled through Hugo’s battered body, becoming fuel. Re-energized, he grabbed V3’s wrists and pried his hands off.
The criminal’s smile slowly turned to confusion. He struggled to regain the advantage. But Hugo was stronger, climbing back up, shaking off the cobwebs.
Now I bring the pain. A cat-quick throat jab drove Vincent Van Violence back, clutching his neck.
Hugo stood tall and composed, power flowing through him. “My name…is Aegis,” he declared.
“Don’t care.” V3 shrugged off the pain, coming in swinging.
“Not yet.” Hugo blocked with a forearm then backhanded V3’s jaw, followed by a sharp sternum jab.
V3 staggered and coughed. Glowering through cautious eyes, he charged again.
Hugo sidestepped behind him, unloading twenty piston-like punches to the kidneys in three seconds. Swift, brutal, and contained offense, using someone’s momentum against them. One of Geist’s lessons.
V3 staggered forward, grimacing from unmistakable pain. His sloppy backhand met thin air.
Hugo was already in front of V3, seizing his throat. Jackhammering his jaw with three right hooks, the teen doubled V3 over with a hard knee to the stomach. Then another, and another.
