Generation Next: A Superhero Adventure (The Pantheon Saga Book 3) Read online

  Another girl? Mom’s frown suggested. Hugo shook his head tersely to quiet her.

  AJ looked smitten by Jodie. “Actually, its Junior,” he corrected when introduced.

  Hugo snorted. “Since when?”

  “Awhile.” AJ looked annoyed. “Shaddup, uso!”

  “Boys,” Mom chided, then smiled at Jordana. “AJ’s friends call him that. Speaking of…” She frowned while recalling something. “AJ’s friend Dallas has an older sister at Paso High. His siblings are named after Texas cities. I keep forgetting her name…”

  “Abilene,” Jodie said. Hugo frowned at her stiff reaction.

  “Yes,” Mom exclaimed. “She goes by Abby. Sweet girl.”

  Hugo was lost. “Abby who?”

  Jodie pursed her lips in distaste. “Dunleavy.”

  Hugo’s jaw dropped. “That Abby?” Easy Abby’s reputation around school stemmed from her banging Jordana’s ex-boyfriend, ending the two’s friendship. Brie's cyberbullying made Abby's rep and nickname stick.

  Hugo turned angrily on AJ. “You never said Abby was Dallas’s sister.”

  His brother shrugged indifferently. “You never asked.”

  “On that note…” Jordana checked her phone. “My Uber’s almost here. Nice meeting you.” She gathered her stuff from the living room as Mom, AJ, and Sione said goodbye.

  Hugo then escorted Jordana outside. The tension between them still crackled, despite the awkward family meeting. Standing on the sidewalk, Jordana spun to face him. “So…” She bit her lower lip suggestively.

  “So…” Hugo smiled, enjoying the nearness. “I had fun.”

  Jodie fiddled with his shirt. “Same.”

  Despite the lust fogging his brain, Hugo remembered to state his intentions now. “But I’m not looking for anything serious.”

  Jordana frowned. “Me neither,” she snapped, head bobbing all sassy-like.

  Relief flooded Hugo as approaching Uber’s headlights washed over them. “Cool.” He stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. Jodie’s eyes rolled back a little. “See you at school.” Hugo leaned in, kissing her. She replied instinctively.

  He tried not to laugh at Sione and AJ cheering from the living room window. Thankfully, Jordana couldn’t hear.

  She reluctantly pulled away and skipped toward her ride. “Goodnight.” As she drove off, Hugo smiled when his superhearing caught Jordana sigh, “I’m in trouble.”

  Sione and AJ were waiting when Hugo reentered. “First…” His uncle raised a hand. “Highest. Five. Ever!”

  Hugo chuckled, returning the thrilled high-five. Me and Jordana. Wow…

  “So,” Sione continued, all gossipy. “How long ya been boinking that yummy little goddess?”

  That walloped Hugo in the chest. “Don’t call girls my age yummy little anythings! You sound like a child toucher!”

  AJ burst out laughing. That drew Mom’s rebuke from the kitchen. “He’s a boy, Sione!”

  “Fine, Savelina!” Sione made a childish face. “Well?” he asked quietly.

  Discussing his romantic life weirded Hugo out. “Settle down, we’re not fucking!” He noticed AJ listening intently. “Go help Mom, ‘Junior.’”

  AJ grumbled but obeyed.

  “It’s new,” Hugo explained. “I’m still getting to know Jordana.”

  Sione side-eyed him. “Biblically, I hope.”

  “Oh Jesus!” Hugo forgot his uncle was worse than Simon with the euphemisms. “It’s not like that…yet.”

  Sione clapped his shoulder. “If you need pointers on where to point—”

  “No thanks,” Hugo interrupted with a terse hand slash, disgusted. “I’ve done this before.”

  “You what?”

  Hugo’s blood chilled. “Shit.” Focused on Sione, he hadn’t heard Mom leaved the kitchen. She stared back in horror.

  Hugo’s cellphone vibrated. He yanked it from his pocket like a lifeline.

  Betty Ortiz: Where are you?

  The timing was a godsend. “Gotta go.” Hugo dashed for the door.

  “Bogota—” Mom moved to intercept.

  “Be back later.” Hugo slammed the door behind him. He quickly scanned the street for passing cars, jogging normally. Once under the shadow of two large trees, Hugo rocketed to downtown Paso Robles.

  “He arrives,” Ms. Ortiz stated impatiently once Hugo entered the first level of her shop. Wearing training sweats, long hair in a ponytail was an unusually normal look for her.

  “Sorry,” Hugo apologized. “Family situation.”

  She took him into the brightly lit gallery featuring many in-progress costumes. “Before we start training, we’ll see your costume!”

  Hugo’s stomach buzzed like a bee’s swarm with anticipation. He skimmed over five costumes with similar colors and designs.

  “Here’s how we’ll get you into the field,” Ms. Ortiz continued. “While you’re still training.”

  Her infectious enthusiasm lifted Hugo out of today’s oddness. “Great,” he beamed, walking beside Ms. Ortiz. “What’s the plan?”

  She stopped when they reached one mannequin draped in cloth. “You’ll be Lady Liberty’s sidekick. My sidekick!”

  Hugo’s smile froze. “Sidekick,” he echoed, praying she’d misspoken.

  Ms. Ortiz nodded happily. “Once you get field experience with me, we’ll discuss going solo.”

  “Sidekick,” Hugo repeated as his shock waned. She’s serious. Lady Liberty saw him as her sidekick?

  Ms. Ortiz, oblivious to his displeasure, yanked the cloth off the mannequin. The white costume beneath sported a head, eyes, and nose mask, the red midsection wreathed in small white stars. The ankle-high boots and gauntlets were dark blue.

  Hugo’s costume was a walking American flag.

  Ms. Ortiz gestured at her creation, beaming. “You’ll be…Kid Liberty!”

  Hugo stopped smiling, his stomach in knots. All he could say was, “Huh.”

  Chapter 6

  Quinn ached to slap the taste out of Rebecca Reyes’s mouth. Too bad I’m on the other side of the country, she fumed silently.

  It was early Monday morning, and Quinn hadn’t slept well. Last night’s nightmares were best forgotten.

  Dressed in a stylish white blouse and dark-blue jeans with horn-rimmed glasses, Quinn sat facing two screens in one of SLOCO Daily’s studios. One screen featured Ben Halbrook, host of Beyond the Cape on National News Network, focusing on heroes, villains, and supers. Halbrook cut a nimble frame in his charcoal-grey suit, with styled curly red hair and boyish handsomeness. Rebecca Reyes occupied the other screen, today’s other contributor and Quinn’s nemesis. Sitting across from Ben Halbrook in N3’s Manhattan studios, the veteran reporter wore a dark-green dress—apropos, flawlessly tanned and toned. Her dark-auburn hair was styled in that omnipresent news anchor bob blown out to perfection. at age fifty, Reyes’s face was beautiful and impossibly smooth thanks to injectables and plastic surgery.

  Quinn hadn’t gone looking for a nemesis. Enough people in the public still despised her or sent occasional death threats over her Morningstar exposé. But Rebecca had sparked this feud after seducing Robbie Rocket into sabotaging Quinn’s Vanguard interviews. When that had failed, she’d gone on many N3 shows trashing Quinn’s journalism skills. After N3 had asked Quinn to join Beyond the Cape as a contributor, Reyes’s jabs had grown less frequent and subtler. Aside from extra cash and recognition, Quinn knew this side gig provided more SLOCO Daily exposure. But Reyes’s obsessive bitterness was tainting what should be an amazing experience.

  Quinn then recalled Helena Madden’s advice. “Stay classy. You look worse reacting in anger.” Despite little sleep and excessive coffee fraying her tolerance, Quinn refused to take the bait.

  She focused on Halbrook’s question. “Can The Vanguard salvage their reputation, or should another superhero team step up?”

  “No team can replace The Vanguard.” Rebecca’s expression veering between belittling and flirty. “My experience with
them revealed a drive for justice absent in today’s ultraviolent brutes.” She loved reminding everyone about her past with The Vanguard.

  As Reyes kept pontificating, Quinn considered her next words. In the two-plus months since she’d printed her Titan exposé and The Vanguard’s enabling his misogyny, the team’s popularity had plummeted. Various charities had severed ties. Even as The Vanguard kept saving lives and fighting criminals, the news harpooned the tiniest mistakes. Wherever they appeared, crowds gathered now to heckle instead of cheer. Quinn didn’t want to keep kicking them while they were down. She found an opening once Reyes finally shut up. “The Vanguard are larger-than-life, main-event heroes. No matter how dire the situation, once they arrived, you knew everything’s okay. In time, they can regain that goodwill.”

  Halbrook seemed unconvinced. “A long time.” He furrowed his brow in serious deliberation. “The Vanguard should recapture the Sensational Seven magic from the 90s.”

  Rebecca shook her head at this. “Not sure that’s possible, Ben. Vanguard’s golden age was Titan, Lady Liberty, Severine, Tsunami, Sentinel, December, and Whiz Kid.” Her doe-brown eyes went nostalgic for a moment. “Lightning in a bottle.”

  “Rebecca’s right,” Quinn said with a curt nod, surprising Reyes. “They've been coasting off past glory for years. Titan’s murder shattered that illusion. Morningstar’s arrest and Ramon Dempsey’s retirement revealed a shorthanded team that has made very public mistakes. Unless the reserve team has any promising rookies, Vanguard needs fresh talent from outside their ranks.”

  Rebecca reclined in her seat, pouting like a sullen teenager. “The Vanguard wouldn’t be in this position if not for certain people.”

  Quinn stiffened at Reyes’s veiled insult. Helena’s advice filled her brain before she replied. “Would you rather The Vanguard still have Titan’s killer or atone for its litany of mistakes?”

  “Someone read a thesaurus this morning.” Reyes threw back as if addressing a preschooler. “Charming.”

  Quinn fought to keep her face neutral. “Preparation never hurts.” The response came through clenched teeth.

  Halbrook’s eyes darted eagerly between the pair. “The Vanguard should do a complete reorg,” he interjected. “Starting with leadership.”

  Quinn disliked where this was heading, as Sentinel was the current team leader. “A roster change, maybe. But Sentinel is a proven field leader on a team going through a rough patch. It happens even with the best heroes.” Supporting Sentinel, aka Kurt Weston, was the least she could do after her exposé had made his job harder. Which was partially Sentinel’s fault.

  “Weston’s damaged goods, thanks to Bauer,” Reyes emphasized with a barbed smile. “A leadership change could steer Vanguard back on track.”

  Quinn swallowed the vitriol in her throat. Stay classy, she told herself yet again.

  “Then Sentinel can focus on his relationship,” Halbrook teased, adding unneeded gossipy froth to the panel. “My sources say that’s not looking great.”

  As Rebecca critiqued Sentinel and Seraph’s frequent cancelled weddings, Quinn stayed quiet. That relationship was in trouble, but not for reasons anyone knew. But besides Annie, Quinn would never tell. She steered the conversation away from tabloid fodder. “If Sentinel steps down, I could only see Lady Liberty leading. She’s a legend and former Vanguard member from the Sensational Seven era, covering your point, Ben.” Quinn winked at Halbrook, who grinned. Reyes rolled her eyes in disdain. “Plus, which superhero can you name inspires hope and compassion like Lady Liberty? The Vanguard needs her more than she needs them.”

  “Good point.” Halbrook drummed the desk. “Though I’m not sure Lady Liberty wants that burden.”

  Rebecca cocked her head sideways with understanding. “Sounds like Bauer has her next victim.” She sized Quinn up, seemingly unimpressed. “I’m sure you’ll find some dark secret to ruin her with.”

  It was the final insult. Quinn zeroed in on Rebecca heatedly. “I don’t hide my agenda from my interviewees. Nor do I trade bedroom journalism for scoops.”

  Ben looked like he’d swallowed a chicken bone. “Now, ladies…”

  “That’s your best shot, Bauer? Clichéd Titan insults?” Rebecca mocked, taking the bait.

  Quinn smiled innocently, springing the trap. “Who said anything about Titan?”

  The set grew deathly quiet, some crewmember offscreen choking back laughter. Rebecca turned bone-white. Quinn was shocked the veteran showed any emotion with all that plastic surgery. Exposing Reyes’s Robbie Rocket liaisons was juvenile, but Quinn was sick of her constant broadsides. Payback’s a beyotch, she gloated as Reyes reeled and stammered from the counterstrike.

  “And we’ll be back,” Ben Halbrook blurted out in scandalized shock.

  Show producers scolded Quinn during a commercial while complimenting her poise regarding Reyes. “We’ll talk to Rebecca about her language,” one producer promised via phone. Yet, Quinn vs Reyes segments generated ratings gold. So, N3 scheduled her in for two more show panels next week.

  Helena, though, wasn’t pleased. “I caught hell from N3 higher-ups!” the editor-in-chief barked on the phone, up in San Francisco for a news media summit. “I said, stay classy!”

  “I didn’t call Rebecca a whore on-air,” Quinn retorted, returning to her desk. “That’s the definition of classy.”

  Helena sounded ready to respond angrily, only to cough out amusement. “I appreciated your delivery. Still…” She softened. “This opportunity could lead to bigger things, QB. Rebecca Reyes has friends in high places. Be careful who you stomp on.”

  “I know.” Quinn leaned against a wall and sighed, more tired than she realized. A quick lunch nap might help. “But her insulting my journalistic integrity insults SLOCO Daily as an organization.”

  “Sneaky millennial,” Helena teased. “Appealing to my SLOCO Daily love to win your argument. By the way,” her tone sobered. “The Vanguard’s eating shit because they enabled a misogynistic pig. Stop pulling your punches on them.”

  Quinn cringed. “You noticed.”

  “I always watch your N3 segments. Protégé bragging rights.” Helena had been merciless with recent Vanguard criticisms in her weekly op-eds. She'd especially ripped into Titan, despite once being a huge Titan-iac. But Helena didn’t have friends on The Vanguard. Still, the editor-in-chief was right. Quinn couldn’t feel guilty for doing her job. “I’ll do better.”

  “I know.” Helena’s pride was palpable. “My keynote’s about to start. We’ll talk later about your next assignment.”

  After the call, Quinn found solace in friends texting their approval of her segment.

  Annie: ROTFLMAO! You savage, Quinnie!

  Creed: That comeback killed me, QB! Who did Reyes screw?

  Quinn scoffed. “I’m not telling you.” Creed Samuels was a walking gazette. Before she could reply, a new text she hadn’t expected appeared.

  TL: Glad you DESTROYED that Reyes bitch.

  Giddiness flooded Quinn at Therese’s praise.

  ME: When they go low, I go subterranean.

  TL: LOL

  TL: You looked hot today. And Saturday night.

  Quinn’s throat went dry. So, you were watching on Saturday. She hadn’t expected that compliment or this heart-dropping-into-stomach reaction. She squashed the sarcastic reply forming in her brain.

  ME: Thanks.

  Quinn stuffed the phone in her purse to end the interaction, heading for the elevators. Her thoughts landed on someone she hadn’t spoken to in weeks.

  Hugo Malalou.

  With his powerset, he could help so many. Maybe fill Titan’s shoes. Quinn had heard from the teen once since their Beach Bum Burger run-in; a text with his number and that he’d begun superhero training. The ensuing silence had disappointed Quinn. She respected Hugo’s privacy but hoped he’d become the hero this world needed.

  The elevator opened as Quinn advanced. Two women inside saw her and squealed. “QB!” Jess Richar
dson-Palmer cried. The bubbly woman-child with dirty-blonde hair dragged Quinn into the elevator. “Ad Sales watched on Beyond the Cape!”

  Tania Navarro hugged Quinn from behind. “You cancelling that old cape-chaser was like a touchdown!”

  “Thanks, girls.” Quinn had been befriended by Tania and Jess from Ad Sales since the Titan exposé. These members of Dave Packer’s ‘harem’ now regularly invited her to lunch and Ad Sales happy hours. Quinn suspected these two were using her to boost their profiles around SLOCO Daily. Yet the Ad Sales girls were fun to hang out with.

  “We’re grabbing an early lunch with Scott,” Jess declared, hazel eyes glittering.

  Tania ran eager fingers through her disheveled mane. “Wanna come?”

  Quinn longed to refuse. Her lack of sleep was blurring her vision. But it was known around SLOCO Daily to stay on Ad Sale’s good side. Keep your friends close and your happy-hour crew closest. “Let’s go,” Quinn complied.

  More ear-piercing squeals from Jess and Tania.

  So that’s how I’ll stay awake. Quinn winced as the elevator closed.

  Chapter 7

  “Please eat something!”

  Connie was getting on Greyson’s last nerve. He wanted to bask in the good memories of him and Lauren. But in this tiny room on this rickety barge, Connie kept pushing and prodding Greyson about fucking food.

  He swallowed his irritation, staring at the wall before him. “I already ate.”

  Connie moved directly into his eyeline. “Then eat more." Connie looked weary from the voyage, but her tenacity wouldn’t die. “You look like a corpse, sleeping half the day. I’m worried…”

  She continued as Greyson noticed another presence. Looking like Lauren, wearing her penguin pajamas, ash-blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. But this Lauren was over Connie’s henpecking.

  “You should’ve let her get arrested,” Ghost-Lauren griped, arms spread in bother. “It’s her fault you’re in this mess.”

  Greyson squeezed his eyes shut, desperate for this illusion to disappear. After Tom took the fall for Heroes Anonymous’s crimes and the real Lauren had gotten the rest of the team jailed, Greyson couldn’t lose another teammate.