Generation Next: A Superhero Adventure (The Pantheon Saga Book 3) Page 26

  Hugo turned to Simon expectantly.

  “Epic,” his best friend approved. “Put on the hood and mask.”

  Hugo reached back, pulling the hood and mask over his face. It felt like it was a second skin like the rest of the costume, snug but comfortable. A slight reddish film covered his vision. He didn’t find it too distracting.

  Simon nodded with satisfaction. “Criminals beware!”

  Hugo walked around, adjusting to the costume. Damn, this was easy to move in. “I was iffy on not using goggles to better hide my face,” he admitted, “but this is much better.”

  Randolph shook his head vehemently. “With the mask and hood, the goggles might’ve been too much.”

  “Yeah,” Simon agreed. “One layer over your eyes won’t hamper your hypersensitive vision.”

  That drew surprised stares from Randolph and Zelda.

  Hugo grinned proudly. “Simon knows things.”

  “Do a pose,” Simon urged.

  Happy to oblige, Hugo straightened with fists on hips, staring off majestically. The pose was pure Titan, which Hugo had practiced for years, even before getting powers.

  “Classic,” Simon crowed, clapping. “Do another!”

  Hugo hunched as if in mid-run, muscles flexed dramatically. The pose was a little too Blur, but cool.

  “HAHA!” Simon hopped up and down, to Randolph and Zelda’s distaste. “Boss-level shit!”

  Hugo stood up. “King level,” he corrected.

  Zelda rolled her eyes. “You two are why aliens seem to hate us.”

  “Don’t hate the bromance, kiddie,” Simon chided. Zelda shook her head, unable to hide a smile.

  After changing back into his Henley and jeans, Hugo shook Randolph’s and Zelda’s hands. “Zelda. Tell your mom, I owe her.”

  The girl blushed.

  “You’ll have three spares by the end of this week.” Randolph promised.

  “WAIT!” Simon bellowed. “Codename! You said you had one.”

  “Right!” Hugo cringed at his faux pas. “Aegis.”

  Randolph, Simon, and Zelda waited, until realizing Hugo had just said it.

  Simon clapped. Randolph nodded. Zelda looked like she’d smelled rotten cheese. “That kinda sucks.”

  “A-E-G-I-S,” Hugo detailed. “It’s spelled cooler than it sounds.”

  Zelda beamed as the dots connected. “OH! That is good.”

  “Right?” Simon gestured up and down his friend. “I mean, look at him. He’ll be a shield to protect San Miguel. Or something.”

  Randolph and Zelda stared at him.

  Hugo chortled. Every superhero needed a hype man. “A cool superhero name is enough.”

  Later, Hugo was back home finishing dinner before heading out for another search. With his new costume, he was no longer hampered by getting recognized. AJ was locked in his room upstairs. Hugo’s brother was still devastated by Uncle Sione’s departure two days back. Hugo, now feeling guilty, had tried consoling AJ. But his brother had pushed him away. Hugo decided then to let AJ come to him.

  Hugo was having more luck with Jordana, keeping in touch via phone or text. She and Briseis were mending fences, which meant he and Jodie could only be friends. The sadness of that had messed with his head for days. Still, Hugo was happy for them. No amount of petty drama was worth losing a best friend. Mom had also been in touch with Brie since the explosion.

  “Briseis remembers you protecting her before blacking out,” Mom had reassured this morning. “And when she woke up in the hospital, your wellbeing was her first concern.”

  Hugo felt mostly relieved, despite Mom foolishly holding out hope for Brie and Hugo to make amends. Brie knowing about Fall Fling meant he’d keep his distance—permanently. Hugo had heard from another friend that Jordana and Briseis would be hanging out at a varsity basketball party tonight intended to restore school spirit. And Brent was taking Jordana as his date, per Hugo’s encouragement.

  ME: You and Lefty at the party yet?

  Jodie: Only if Brent ever gets here.

  Jodie’s anger jumped off the screen. Hugo frowned. That was weird, since Brent really liked Jordana.

  ME: What happened?

  Jodie: Brent’s forty minutes late. I’ll probably stay home. Easy Abby will be there hunting her next victim. But I wanna hang out with Brie.

  Hugo winced seeing the Abby mention. She already found her next target.

  ME: Let me know how it goes. Have fun.

  Hugo immediately speed-texted Brent, wanting to smack him halfway across California.

  ME: WTF, brosef? Jodie’s waiting for you.

  Twenty minutes passed. No response. A call went straight to voicemail. Hugo’s anger became concern. “Something’s up.” He dialed Brent’s mainline.

  “Hi, Hugo!” Brent’s mother had such a mom voice, like in those prehistoric 1980s sitcoms.

  “Hey, Mrs. Longwell,” he replied, masking his fear.

  “Brent’s been so worried about you,” she said with pitch-perfect Mom concern. “Glad you’re okay!”

  “Is Brent at the basketball party?” Hugo asked.

  “Why yes,” Mrs. Longwell answered.

  Hugo heard Brent’s younger brothers roughhousing in the background. “He’s getting food at Beach Bum Burger first for himself and his date.”

  Hugo exhaled in relief. So why was he an hour late? “When did he leave?”

  “Two hours ago.”

  Despite the warm kitchen light bathing him, Hugo went cold all over. “I’m guessing he took the Escalade to impress his date?” he asked in shaky tones.

  Mrs. Longwell gave a big, honking laugh. “Brent’s dad and I were iffy after he got pepper spray all over the insides. But after some begging, we caved.”

  Hugo squeezed his eyes shut at the emotions that Escalade evoked, when Brett had showed his true character. “Which Beach Bum Burger did he go to?”

  “The Templeton location.” Suspicion colored Mrs. Longwell’s jovialness. “They have those pineapple milkshakes he loves. Why?”

  Hugo chuckled to deflect. “No reason. Goodnight, Mrs. Longwell!”

  Three minutes later, Hugo zoomed to the Beach Bum Burger in San Miguel’s Templeton suburb. He scanned the parking lot, hoping the white Escalade wasn’t there. Hugo reached the lot’s farthest edge, bordered by a wall of shrubbery.

  Hugo’s heart sank. There was Brent’s Escalade. Hugo reached the SUV with normal strides, thanks to the annoying amount of people in their cars doing nothing. The driver-side door was unlocked. Brent and another familiar scent blanketed the inside, both trailing to a manhole beyond the bushes.

  Terror squeezed Hugo’s throat with painful acuteness.

  He fished out his encrypted phone with shaky fingers. Simon picked up. He’d requested two phones from Mrs. Ortiz and had given one to Simon to discuss superheroics freely.

  “I need a few things,” Hugo said.

  “Anything.”

  Hugo looked over Brent’s car, filled with dread. “Call the police from your new phone.”

  “What am I telling them?”

  Hugo quivered from the words about to leave his mouth. “Brent's been kidnapped by Mister Quiet.”

  After hanging up, he stepped into the bushes and raced home to suit up. “You’re mine, Mister Quiet.”

  Chapter 32

  Greyson stared out the wall-length window on Sunbridge Palace’s highest levels. A pink dawn bathed the glittering ocean, climbing over the pockets of lush jungle that wreathed Dourado’s vast cityscape. Curls of black smoke rose from neighborhoods where AmeriForce units engaged Carneiro holdouts. Distant gunfire, zapping noises, and shouts rang out. Morning skies burned brighter by the minute.

  Greyson was still digesting what Connie had confessed last night about their rescuers. Apparently, AmeriForce had ambushed Carneiro's military sneaking into Bellazul through their tunnel. Then AmeriForce had used that same tunnel to liberate Bellazul from House Perez’s rule. Hours after putting a provisional
force in the city, AmeriForce had backtracked down the tunnel and invaded Dourado.

  The battle wasn’t as one-sided as Bellazul. AmeriForce took casualties but ultimately prevailed. Now they were hunting the remaining Dourado’s leaders to secure the city and its mines.

  Greyson rubbed his throat appreciatively. “Not having a collar is nice.” He turned to Connie beside him. His heart sang seeing her alive and well. Greyson recalled wanting to sink to the bottom of the ocean or die in the gladiator pits. His weakness brought up uncomfortable shame. “When I thought you'd died, I almost gave up.” His voice caught at the end.

  Connie searched his face. Since Greyson had last seen her weeks ago, she looked healthy and strong, any baby fat burned away. She’d changed into dark military fatigues. If not for the aching compassion on her face, Greyson might not have recognized Connie.

  “Seeing you again kept me going,” Connie admitted, her voice rough. She reached out, fingers tracing from scalp to cheek and lingering. Greyson didn’t pull away.

  Connie’s mouth pulled into a smile. “Would’ve been awkward if you offed yourself.”

  Greyson grinned back, genuinely happy. That didn’t curb his questions. Or guilt. He clutched Connie’s hand. “What I said on the ferry—”

  “All in the past,” Connie interrupted, features tightening.

  Greyson persisted. “I’m still sorry. You’ve stuck by me, kept me going.”

  Connie squeezed her eyes shut, suppressing a reservoir of pain. The tension grew thick and gooey. Greyson withdrew his hand from hers. It felt like he was cheating, even three months after leaving Lauren broken and bleeding in their apartment.

  Greyson fled from that abyss, focusing on Connie. “How did you avoid the pirates? And the intangibility?” He was still dumbfounded by Connie’s new power—and how viciously she employed it. “I thought you could only increase your density.”

  Connie opened her eyes. She looked tired, drawn back to the night of their separation. “Increasing density is one part. I was working on the intangibility with…you know.”

  Greyson stiffened. No need to utter Dr. St. Pierre’s name.

  “It’s how I snuck into your parents’ house without anyone noticing…” Connie yawned. They had been up all night. “Out in the ocean,” she explained, “I lowered my density so I didn’t drown. Then I hid under ship debris until the pirates left.” She turned to the Dourado cityscape. “I was in the early stages of hypothermia.” Connie turned as the chamber door opened behind them. “AmeriForce sent a boat and found me as I was losing consciousness.”

  Tigre and a slim woman in white named Frostknife entered with Rodrigo following them. He chatted up the leaders like old friends. A flood of hubbub filled the room before the door closed. AmeriForce was converting Sunbridge Palace into another base. Just like with Bellazul’s Montesur Towers. Despite what AmeriForce had done for Connie, something in Greyson couldn’t lower his guard.

  “And AmeriForce?” Greyson chuckled at the ridiculousness of that name. “Are they trustworthy?”

  Connie nodded, studying his reaction. “They saved me, fixed me up and gave me something to believe in again…besides you.” Her features glowed with pure affection. Greyson didn’t shy away.

  She cast a harsh glance beyond the windows. “You wouldn’t believe how bad supers have it on Amarantha. Baseline humans subjugate supers whose powers aren’t considered useful.” She clenched a quivering fist, causing Greyson to involuntary step back. “More powerful supers get turned into gladiators for their amusement,” Connie continued. “And if the super is alpha class, they're sold to megacorps like Seneca International and Paxton-Brandt, and turned into living WMDs. Or…” Connie sounded sick, struggled to continuing. “They become sex slaves for the rich and insufferable.”

  “Like me,” Greyson stated.

  Connie was momentarily confused. “Huh?” His words sank in, and she paled. “Oh my God.”

  Greyson furrowed his brow at her pity. “I did what I could to survive,” Greyson stated, calmer than he should’ve been. Their liaisons had been consensual. Were they really? God only knew how Lady Thuraya would've treated Greyson if he’d refused her. The realization seared his bones.

  Connie slipped her arm around his as they walked to meet Tigre, Frostknife, and Rodrigo. According to Connie, those two, a Mexican super named Carga and an American codenamed Radiant, led AmeriForce. And they were the last of a nine-member team sent to liberate Amarantha five years ago. Up close, Frostknife had a snowy mane and colorless pupils like dirty chips of ice. Chilled condensation oozed off her athletic physique.

  “Greyson,” she exclaimed after Tigre introduced them. “Nice to meet you.”

  Greyson shook Frostknife’s and Tigre’s hands. “Hello.” He fist-bumped with Rodrigo. “How goes it?”

  “Better after last night,” Tigre admitted. “But if even part of our plan failed—”

  “It didn’t,” Rodrigo chided, slapping Tigre on the back. “Enjoy victory, yea.”

  Tigre’s withering glower wiped the mirth off Rodrigo’s face. “I’ll relax when this island is free, Fastball.”

  This one's a tight-ass. Greyson glanced at Connie, who rolled her eyes.

  “Tigre’s passionate about ending the royal families’ regime.” Frostknife had a slight Canadian accent. “The human rights abuses by the royals is out of control. All thanks to the US giving the human Amaranthine countermeasures against the superhumans.”

  Greyson already knew this. “I heard.”

  Slight commotion in the hallway drew all eyes. Human politicians being dragged down the corridors in shackles. Tigre ignored them and continued where Frostknife left off. “North America’s three superpowers secretly collaborated to end the royals’ tyranny. The Office of Superhuman Affairs in America, E-Directorate in Canada, CISEN in Mexico. Each recruited three trained superhuman agents for this unit.”

  “The original AmeriForce,” Connie added.

  Tigre nodded at her. “The plan was to engage local resistance cells in Amarantha and orchestrate a coup.” His face turned sallow. Frostknife’s expression somehow grew colder.

  Greyson caught the crippling grief in their eyes. He knew that kind of loss well. “The coup failed.”

  Tigre’s amber eyes remained haunted. “Worse than the Bay of Pigs.”

  “Then, our home countries disavowed us,” Frostknife continued. “Warstar, Skydancer, Yukon, Psyche, Red Hornet. All killed.” She recited those names with a cadence as bloodless as her eyes. “Leaving four of us as homeless fugitives on foreign soil.”

  Greyson watched these battle-hardened warriors with new eyes. “How did you survive that?”

  Tigre reacted like those words were absurd. “There was no choice,” he snarled “You either adapt or die.”

  “And we adapted,” Frostknife said with less bite. “Mourned our dead and regrouped.” She and Tigre moved toward the door. Greyson, Rodrigo, and Connie followed.

  “The San Lorenzo mission near the island center became our headquarters, one of Amarantha’s few neutral zones.”

  Greyson scoffed at such an impediment. “Tyrants who respect catholic missions.”

  Tigre exited the chamber. “We started recruiting human and superhuman members to our cause.”

  “Like him?” Greyson stated, glancing at Rodrigo beside him.

  Frostknife’s face warmed. “Fastball, yes.” She patted the young Amaranthine on the cheek. “And established a network of informants within the major cities and waited. Once the Carneiros finished their tunnel to Bellazul, we attacked.”

  Rodrigo puffed out his chest. “They trained me. Made sure I got captured. Put a tag in me.”

  Greyson gave Rodrigo a playful shove, impressed. “You sly dog.”

  Looking around, AmeriForce personnel occupied the rooms on this level of Sunbridge. Continuous, overlapping conversations filled the air. Bodies of Carneiro officials were carried away. By how fluently these AmeriForce personnel moved about,
there must have been many insiders ready to serve Dourado up on a silver platter.

  Tigre’s voice drew Greyson back to now. “The families ruling these cities and enslaving the supers are just the beginning,” the AmeriForce leader promised. “This corruption will never take root again on Amarantha.”

  Passing one room, Greyson noticed four smaller bodies covered in blood-soaked blankets. Children. A thought came to mind, so horrid he almost didn’t ask. “Gaspar and Martine had four younger kids. Where are they?”

  “Wiped out from branch to bough,” Frostknife confessed evenly.

  The admission was a white-hot dagger to Greyson’s chest. He leaned against a wall. His vision swayed jaggedly. Tigre was at his side, making no footfall.

  “It’s a brutal business, Greyson,” he admitted without remorse. “And the only way we stop anyone from gaining power through them.”

  Greyson didn’t care. “But…they’re children,” he whispered, too livid to see straight.

  Frostknife cocked her head sideways. “They are the enemy,” she hissed with frightening hate. “Every so often, these royal families do battle. To feel commanding or something. A few years ago, Summerhill happened.” That name sent a visible shiver through anyone who heard. Rodrigo had mentioned the name weeks ago and was rattled.

  “What happened at Summerhill?” Greyson inquired.

  Rodrigo spoke now, his face losing color. “Merenwjick, ruled by House Bowen, was feuding with Summerhill. The Bowens unleashed a superweapon on that city. No one knows what exactly. Three hundred thousand citizens dead.”

  Connie looked nauseated.

  “Good God,” Greyson whispered in horror, hand over his mouth.

  Frostknife made a face. “These are the monsters we’re fighting.”

  Tigre moved forward again through the swirl of hubbub. This time Greyson walked side by side with the tiger-like man as he spoke. “Bellazul and Dourado belong to us. We must strike House Wheeler and take Angelique before they can prepare.” A crazed smile pulled at his lips, almost like he could already see the ensuing battle. “The Carneiros were targeting them next but wanted House Pérez defeated first.”