by Ekeke, C. C.
In the largest tent, hundreds of emergency workers prepared a makeshift hospital for incoming patients.
Battalion and San Francisco’s Golden Guardians were among many heroes gathered near the center.
Lady Liberty stood alongside Gambrel of Seattle’s Green Squadron, and Sentinel, of all people, providing directions. No one had seen Sentinel in months. The supersoldier appeared hale and in control, unlike the burnt-out man Hugo had dressed down.
“Holy crap,” J-Tom hissed. “It’s the Valhalla of heroes. Except no one’s a dead Viking.”
Her joy brought a smile to Hugo’s face. “Don’t fangirl too much, huglord,” he murmured.
J-Tom nodded her silvery helmet. “On it.”
Once the meeting ended, the heroes gathered into assigned groups. Lady Liberty spotted Hugo and reached him in a few long strides. “Aegis.” She gave J-Tom’s armor a stern onceover. “Arclight.”
Hugo nodded. “Lady Liberty…” He paused when catching another approach. “Dynamo,” he blurted out.
Ramon towered over Hugo in his cobalt-blue-and-black-armored Dynamo suit.
“Hello.” He waved a hand down his own torso self-deprecatingly. “I know, I’m retired. But natural disasters don’t care about your feelings.”
“Good to see you.” Hugo glanced at the departing groups. “Where can we start?”
“The focus is search and rescue,” Lady Liberty said. “Emergency Services will assign zones to each team.”
“Team up?” Dynamo asked Hugo.
Despite Ramon being younger, he had three years of field experience on The Vanguard.
“Tell us where we’re needed,” Hugo agreed readily.
He and J-Tom followed Ramon into the heart of Seattle’s decimated downtown. Pike Market was under rubble, firefighters and hydrokinetic responders fighting the boiling fires.
Hugo served as a bloodhound, his hypersensitivity ferreting out trapped survivors. From there, he, J-Tom, and Dynamo burrowed through to reach these poor civilians.
After EMTs extracted the wounded and the deceased, Hugo tracked down the next pocket to repeat the process. Finding survivors were moments to enjoy. The shock of another corpse didn’t get easier.
These searches continued until dark settled over the ruined cityscape.
Green Squadron’s members were directing their own teams around downtown to search other pockets. In one group, Hugo spotted Polymer stretching his elastic limbs to clear large chunks of demolished buildings. The two exchanged weary nods and continued onward.
After nightfall, Hugo, J-Tom, and Ramon returned to the park encampment where the rescued had been delivered. The living had maxed out the beds and makeshift cots. The dead received their own tent, hundreds laid out in rows covered by blankets.
Lady Liberty, covered in grime, stared blankly at the fallen. Hugo watched them as well, taking a few minutes to mourn. Then he made his heart go cold and left. More lives to save, more dead to bury.
Many out-of-town heroes were staying at makeshift motels. Ramon directed Hugo and J-Tom to a Vanguard waystation. Hugo welcomed the refuge, bone-tired. J-Tom could barely keep her eyes open.
The waystation, while spare in furniture, held abundant food and water. From there, Hugo disrobed, and J-Tom shed her armor in privacy.
After two hot showers and dinner, Hugo called home to say he’d be staying in Seattle longer and miss school tomorrow. Mom almost protested but soon understood. What he didn’t reveal to Mom were the horrors he’d seen or his despair. Hugo would spare her that. J-Tom told her parents she was staying, getting no resistance. Their joint cover story would be working at donation centers to collect goods for Seattle.
Hugo came to his room in Vanguard-logoed black sweats, eager to crash.
J-Tom sat on his bedside, damp ginger hair up in a knot. Her face was empty, body swaying from the weight of today’s many tragedies.
Hugo’s heart cracked, knowing that look. He approached without a second thought.
They lay in bed a long while holding each other. But J-Tom couldn’t stop shaking. Hugo wiped away her tears, then kissed her mouth. Slow, sweet kisses. She reacted like a switch had been flipped, climbing onto him with lust-glazed eyes. Before long, the teens were devouring each other.
“You’re my happy place…” J-Tom murmured after they finished, drifting off with a smile.
Then Hugo let sleep pull him under.
The next morning, part of him wished yesterday had been a bad dream.
Then he clicked on the news. Ugh. In one day, the casualty count had reached nine thousand.
Ramon had already left in his Dynamo armor to continue cleanup efforts. J-Tom joined Hugo in the waystation dining room as he spoke with Simon via cellphone. His BFF was still miffed over the Grace situation but kept focus on the Seattle crisis.
“What else can I do?” Simon asked, yawning.
J-Tom leaned closer to the phone. “A school donation website? Like the one you did for a new library.”
“That’s good,” Simon agreed.
J-Tom was watching Hugo. “What else can Aegis do?”
He wasn’t sure what that meant. “Besides what I’m already doing?”
J-Tom rolled her eyes. “Obviously. But charity can be the work that brings awareness.”
Hugo rose from his seat. Using his fame to bring exposure struck like lightning. “You’re a genius, Jen.”
J-Tom did her flirty eyebrow raise. “Maybe I just inspired your genius?”
After his call with Simon, Hugo called Annie straightaway. “I have an idea for charitable outreach.” He winked at J-Tom, who blushed. He and Annie devised a plan that included bodycam footage from his and J-Tom’s suits. The finalized plan sounded amazing.
When Hugo and J-Tom returned to action later, Lady Liberty was still leading her rescue team. Apparently, she’d been working through the night.
“The laws prevent teen heroes from doing that,” Ramon explained when Hugo and J-Tom met up with him.
Today, Hugo got assigned to clearing roads and overpasses. J-Tom went with Dynamo for more search and rescue. Hugo welcomed the ease of removing debris. Still, he found bodies. Steeling away grief wasn’t easy, but he persisted.
He worked with Chicago's Second City Saints to replace ruined overpasses with moldable foam connectors.
While in action, he watched other heroes using their powers to clean up. One lone super, bearded and fluffy-haired, levitated away rubble by telekinesis in Little Saigon. Firecracker, from Freedom’s Ring, used her explosive plasma to destroy debris blocking FEMA trucks. Late afternoon, Hugo stopped by a newly erected camp. Despite being exhausted, he stayed for hours taking pictures and talking to victims. Seeing Aegis lifted these kids’ spirits as well as his own.
On day three, he had stopped tracking the death toll. With extensive debris cleared and more survivors being found, new camps had sprouted around Seattle and Tacoma.
Hugo and J-Tom reunited to carry supplies from nearby military bases to Mercer and Bainbridge Islands. His only issue was with one of the suppliers, Paxton-Brandt. But now wasn’t the time for animus.
“Maybe they’re evolving,” J-Tom suggested, always finding the good in everything, even evil megacorps. Hugo loved her for that.
The first several flights went smoothly. While he returned to the base, Hugo’s superhearing caught trouble on Mercer Island. The natives were getting restless from hunger.
“This food line ain’t moving fast enough.”
“We’re moving as fast as we can, sir.”
“My kids haven’t eaten in almost two days.”
“Fuck this!”
Hugo and J-Tom decelerated above the south end of Mercer Island where food container lines had devolved into a full-on brawl. Some threw haymakers while others shot energy blasts. The poor volunteer workers were overwhelmed. No other heroes were on site. Shit.
Hugo tapped the side of his hood. “Ops. This is Aegis. We got rioting in Pioneer Park.”
“Remove the food container and stop the fight,” a voice replied. “Backup is coming.”
“Understood.” Hugo turned to J-Tom beside him. “Get the container back to the Army Reserve base.”
“On it.” She dove for the food container. “Go easy on them.”
Hugo plunged toward the crowd. “Not sure they feel the same.” He touched down amid the chaos in a crouch, textbook superhero landing.
“ENOUGH,” he barked. That stopped most of the group, until someone jumped on his back. They swarmed him. “Seriously?” Then someone peppered his backside with energy blasts.
“Aegis—” J-Tom cried in the comm channel.
“I’m okay,” he growled. “Get the container and go.” He flung his arms back, throwing several attackers off, and shouted. The sonic scream mowed down the crowds but didn’t harm them. A loud creak drew his attention to the right. J-Tom hoisted the container overhead. Her boot jets erupted as she took off. Many rioters cried out in anger. Soon she’d risen high enough to be out of danger.
Thank God. Hugo was turning away when a violet energy jet shot from the ground, punching J-Tom in the back. The container she was carrying got sliced in half.
J-Tom dropped like a stone, sparks and thick smoke trailing her descent.
Hugo’s heart stopped. “Arclight? ARCLIGHT!” No response. Was she unconscious? Or dead?
He exploded upward, flinging protesters in all directions. He didn’t care, racing for his falling friend.
Panicking, he scanned below. No sign of the shooter. Hugo pushed himself faster. “Fuckfuckfuck!” The illuminated sections of J-Tom’s armor were dead, including her eyes. Not good.
Hugo reached out to catch her limp body, when the second energy blast caught him in the stomach.
“Aaaah!” He folded up like a paper bag, pain overwhelming his nervous system.
Hugo was falling fast, unable to stop. Agony had scorched away his strength. The landing cratered a service street. He rolled onto his side, writhing and groaning. Someone approached. The shooter? His pain-blurred vision couldn’t make them out.
Hugo barely struggled to a knee before another dazzling jet sent him skidding across a sidewalk.
He slid to a stop on grass, swallowing a scream.
The shooter loomed over him, silhouetted by sun and smog.
The shooter crouched beside him. “Miss me?” Definitely a girl by the hourglass figure, donning an athletic dark-red jumpsuit. Her raven-black hair was longer with shaggy bangs, up in a ponytail. But Hugo couldn’t forget this girl’s beauty, with dark-blue eyes oozing venom.
He stared up in disbelief. “S-Spence?” Spencer Michelman, in Seattle. She’d shot them down.
She straddled him leisurely. “Ultraviolet.” Her voice was soft and gripping. “Told ya this would happen.”
Spencer being free confirmed that Dr. Michelman was either captured or dead. The truth pierced through Hugo’s torment. He struggled to sit up. “Where…is your dad?”
Spencer’s face contorted in hatred. “Worry about yourself.” She wrapped both hands around Hugo’s throat. “I could end you right now.” Her fingers glowed neon purple, igniting Hugo’s bones.
The snowballing pain was too much to even move. He screamed.
Suddenly, the pain lessened to where he wasn’t about to faint.
Spencer shook her head, jostling her ponytail, smiling a demented smile. “Could, but won’t.”
Hugo struggled to lift his hand and push her off.
Spencer tightened her chokehold. Fire ripped up Hugo’s spine. She leaned closer. “I’ll make you wait until you go insane.” Her whisper caressed his ear, akin to a lover’s kiss. “Then make you and Jenny suffer until you beg for mercy. And I’ll say no.”
Spencer hauled his ragdoll body into seated posture by the throat. “Your identities are safe. For now.” She kissed his mouth forcefully, grinding her hips onto his waist.
Hugo tried resisting. Spencer squeezed tighter; excruciating jolts of radiation kept him immobilized.
What shamed Hugo most was the part of himself enjoying her tongue in his mouth again.
Jenny… Fear for J-Tom kept him conscious. Have to…save her…
Spencer finally pulled back with a pleased sneer. “This is just an appetizer.” She shoved Hugo down and stood. “Cuz every superhero needs a supervillain.”
That was the last thing Hugo remembered.
Chapter 33
Greyson sat hunched and stewing in this stupid yellow-and-green costume.
The Natural Born Thrillers had been divided and at each other’s throats, exactly where he wanted them. All he needed was to push a little more before extinguishing them.
Then Seattle-Tacoma happened.
A 9.1 earthquake had flattened Washington’s two largest cities.
With thousands dead and millions displaced, President Myriam Khan declared a national emergency.
Several heroes and ERAT teams were already converging on Seattle to start the gigantic relief effort.
The team currently sat on a Seneca private jet, an hour away from SEA-TAC. No one spoke for most of the flight. Tensions remained high after this morning’s blowup.
For that, Greyson was thankful. He wasn’t done fracturing the team. But would these cracks remain after Seattle? The worry gnawed at him throughout the flight.
Greyson sat beside Shattershot, in a yellow-and-green suit like the rest of the team.
With them was Piper Parsons, a Seneca executive serving as the Thrillers’ corporate liaison. She was best described as pert, pretty, and blonde with a smile imprinted on her face. “Alright, team!” She stood at the front of the passenger cabin. “We’re almost at Seattle and Tacoma.” She pumped a fist like some cheerleader. “Let’s all bring our A-game effort.”
Greyson wanted to toss her overeager ass out of the plane. He settled for a death glare.
Erika’s face was solemn when she stood. “We need this win. Doing good here helps our image at home.”
The speech drew murmured agreement and a terse nod from Bulldozer.
“Understood, boss,” Greyson mumbled.
Shattershot poked his shoulder. “Look…” He nodded at the window beside his seat.
Greyson leaned forward, and his world cracked open. He’d never visited Seattle before but had seen images of the famous skyline.
That version of Seattle no longer existed. As their jet pierced through blankets of mucky clouds, Greyson saw a warzone surrounding Puget Sound. Distorted and crushed buildings, fractured freeways, residential areas that looked trampled by bulls.
The sight wrenched Greyson’s heart in ways he’d no longer thought possible. This looked worse than the 1987 San Luis Obispo quake, endless devastation stretching in all directions.
Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood burned. Dense clumps of trees smoldered. Ruined buildings were engulfed in flames, like funeral pyres…
Greyson flattened against his seat. “Jesus.” He flashed on a half-forgotten nightmare from over a year ago, the night of Titan’s death. An almost identical apocalyptic scene.
Greyson clutched his chest, thankful to find a fluttering heartbeat. A dream or a premonition?
He remembered where he was and Shattershot sitting beside him.
“You alright, Levi?”
“I’m fine,” Greyson lied hastily. “It’s just…horrible.”
Their jet landed on a repaired runway at McCord Air Force Base 30 miles south of SeaTac Airport. From there, the team drove over to the disaster response command center at Camp Murray near Tacoma.
Greyson felt awfully exposed among Seneca’s portfolio of corporate-owned heroes.
Los Angeles’s Battalion was present, gorgeous movie stars turned heroes. Gross. Seeing the Second City Saints, Chicago’s new team, rankled Greyson considerably. The Midwest was rebuilding its superhero community around them. Aces & Eights, the Vegas-based team with their card-themed costumes, chatted up everyone.
; The team drawing the most attention was Freedom’s Ring from Philadelphia, led by Sentinel rip-off Commando-in-Chief.
His teammates included American Dream, John Plymouth, Firecracker, Cheyenne Blackbird, and Rushmore. All were slathered in patriotic gear. Up close, Greyson understood their allure to a naïve populace. Freedom’s Ring was a throwback to 1980s flag-humping patriotism but modernized to avoid cheesiness.
The Natural Born Thrillers stayed in their corner watching the proceedings.
Reverb was the only one showing any bit of joy. “Under happier circumstances, I’d be geeking out now.”
A smile inched up Erika’s face. “You kinda are, Verb.”
“Don’t judge me,” Reverb scolded, then pointed. “Holy crap. That’s Sentinel!”
Greyson and the other Thrillers turned and gaped.
Sentinel himself was huddled with Seattle’s Green Squadron. He remained a blond-haired, blue-eyed model of masculine perfection, despite looking like a lion with his shaggy mane and beard.
But his glorious fall from grace stayed fresh in Greyson’s mind.
“I thought he retired after Black Wednesday,” Brightburn remarked awkwardly, “and…ya know.”
“Beating up the teenager that fucked his ex-fiancée?” Bulldozer added. “And getting owned by Aegis.”
“Yeah. That.”
Erika pushed off the wall, all business. “Let’s not judge someone else’s mistakes.” She had a quick discussion with Seneca’s organizers before returning to her team. “Hazard, Shattershot, and Reverb. You’ll go to Columbia City with the Golden Guardians to help search and rescue efforts. Bulldozer, myself, and Brightburn are going to West Seattle with Freedom’s Ring to build more temporary bases.”
Greyson spotted her strategy. Reverb, everyone’s friend, would babysit him and Shattershot. Meanwhile, Bulldozer got watched by Erika and Brightburn. Those three could possibly talk things out, undoing Greyson’s hard work. He opened his mouth to protest.
“Done!” Reverb eyed Greyson and Shattershot. “Follow my lead, boys.”
Erika and her group headed into the cluster of heroes.
