The First Superhero Books 0-3 Box Set Page 8

  I tried listening into the warehouse, but all I could hear was people whimpering, trying to hold back tears. There were a couple of whispers, but they were in Spanish. Then I hit the jackpot. One of the hostage takers began speaking into a phone in English.

  “What the hell is going on, Beta?” he yelled into the phone. He spoke perfect English, with just a slight Hispanic accent that was only there because he was angry.

  “What do you mean, Charlie?” I could hear the man I assumed was Beta say through the phone.

  “You’re supposed to pay the police to stay off us! I’ve got over a dozen police and SWAT cars busting down my doors, and it’s all on the news.”

  Beta laughed. “You really think you’re all over the news? Who do you think you are, Richter?”

  “Stop your laughing! This is no time for jokes! This is serious. You call the police off. You pay them.”

  “Don’t think that I don’t know what I am doing,” Beta said, his voice growing dark. “You are a measly little gang. The police are busting down your doors because my people didn’t pay them. You’ve served your purpose.”

  “How can I get my hostage money when the police are about to kill me?” Charlie screamed into the phone.

  “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you got too comfortable. Neither I nor my people care what you do or what happens to you. You have served your usefulness. I suggest you find a way to get the money to pay the police fast. I have a feeling they aren’t going to want to negotiate with you for very much longer.” With that, there was a click, and the phone call ended.

  Charlie let out a string of words in Spanish, which I guessed were not very nice.

  I stopped listening and began to process what I’d just heard. Beta and Charlie were obviously code names, taken from the phonetic alphabet. Beta definitely seemed to be in control of the situation. My guess was that Charlie and his gang used to work for Beta and his people, but Beta had left Charlie high and dry.

  I didn’t really care to know much more about the situation. All I knew was that there were hostages who needed saving, and I really couldn’t have cared less about Charlie and his gang problems.

  I stood up tall and began floating up toward the broken window at the top of the warehouse; it was about two stories up in the air. I eased my head up from the bottom slowly, trying to stay hidden.

  The warehouse was large and wide open. There wasn’t any equipment, since it was abandoned. It was wide-open save for rows of rusty support beams going up to the ceiling spread out across the entire warehouse, and clusters of offices. There were enclosed offices by the front door, some toward the back, and a break room/office combo toward the middle. I could see through the windows of the break room that the lights were on, and lots of people were piled in there. Most of them were on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs, while the rest stood over them with machine guns in their hands, ready to fire. Outside the office, four more gang members stood guard. I looked across the warehouse, and saw two more gang members standing by the front door, looking out through cracks in the wall at the sea of police and SWAT officers, giving updates into the radios on their shoulders. The news crews were now set up, ready to record any action that might happen from a safe distance away.

  I sank down and floated just underneath the broken window, out of sight. I needed to think of a game plan. And judging by the way Charlie had been acting while he was on the phone with Beta, I needed to think fast.

  Basically my two options came down to whether I wanted to take all the guards’ guns, then fight them, or carry the hostages out, then fight off the gang members. Whichever option I choose, I knew that it had to involve me fighting the gang members. Not only did I need to fight them to practice my fighting and tactical abilities, but I really, really, really wanted to have a victory. I wanted to be a hero, because so far, I’d just been a super-punching-bag, and I wanted people to know that I meant business.

  I decided that the safest thing to do would be a combination of the two main plans I’d come up with so far. I hovered up and flew through the window then floated down as quietly as I could. Once my feet touched the ground, though, I took off running.

  It was time for me to show the world what I could do.

  Performance Anxiety

  I tore through the door to the room, and went straight for the guns. I yanked them out of the gang members’ hands as they stood there frozen. It would be a few seconds before they realized that their guns had disappeared, but by the time they did that, I’d already be almost done moving the hostages to safety.

  I threw each gun toward the door as soon as it was in my hands. Once they left my hand, they barely moved through the air. Not frozen, but moving slowly, like they were moving through a sea of syrup. They’d fly out the door at full speed once I was no longer moving so quickly, though, so I wasn’t worried.

  Once the guns were out of the way, I grabbed the first hostage, a young girl about seven years old. I ran across the warehouse, threw open the front door, and set her down by a group of police officers. Her face was frozen with fear, and tears flowed from her eyes in slow motion.

  But they began to speed up.

  Oh, shit.

  I ran back in as fast as I could, but I was beginning to lose my concentration. I wasn’t running as fast anymore, so time began to speed up around me. It still moved very slowly, but at about half normal speed, instead of a tenth of it.

  I grabbed another hostage and brought her back to safety. I did my best to focus on moving as fast as I could, but I couldn’t help but think I was digging myself into a huge hole. I began to wonder if I should’ve even involved myself at all.

  I began to grab the hostages two by two; the gang members began to realize they were disappearing, as their faces turned from being stone-cold to dazed and confused. One of them reached for something inside his coat, and I realized that some of them had to have pistols hidden on their persons. I didn’t have time to get the guns away from them, however. I had to focus on getting the hostages out of there. I wasn’t going to be fast enough to do it all.

  I took a few more out, and came back for the last hostage. A low rumbling sound reached my ears, followed by a loud, deep pop. I looked at the source of the sound and watched as an explosion slowly erupted from the barrel of a gun, aimed directly at the final hostage, a young Hispanic woman in her early twenties. My concentration faltered, and time began to speed up even more. I was moving slower, and the bullet began to pick up speed. It flew spinning out of the barrel of the gun, moving toward the hostage.

  I ran toward the bullet, but I was all the way on the other side of the room from it. In a last ditch effort, I dove. It was only fifteen feet from the woman’s head, and moving fast. I let out a yell as I came closer and closer, the bullet only inches away from entering the woman. I reached out my hand as the bullet reached the woman’s neck. It began to dig itself into her skin, but I was able to pull it out as I flew over, before it could do any real damage. I threw the bullet to my left, and everything returned to full speed as I crashed into the gang member who’d fired the gun, both of us flying into the wall and falling into a heap on the ground.

  I looked up and saw all the gang members looking at me, bewildered. To them, only about ten seconds had passed since I had begun disarming them. My head pounded, and I felt confused as what to do next.

  The screams of the final hostage shook me out of my haze. She lay curled up on the ground, her hands wrapped around her neck. Her screams were cries of pain, confusion, and fear, all mixed into one.

  I jumped up from the ground, flew to her, wrapped my arms around her, and got her out of there. I flew outside and set her down with the rest of the former hostages. The police officers looked at the group of people who had just appeared, their faces as confused as those of the now-freed hostages.

  I turned to one of the officers and lowered my voice. “This one is injured,” I said. My voice sounded stupid and ridiculous. I was d
efinitely going to have to think of a better solution.

  The officers didn’t respond; instead they all raised their guns at me and began yelling at me. “Get on the ground!” they screamed.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m on your side,” I said. I was trying to say as little as possible, since whatever came out sounded incredibly dumb. I didn’t want to use my real voice, though; I didn’t want anybody to be able to figure out my identity.

  I flew into the air and headed back for the warehouse, hoping the officers had gotten the message to leave me alone. I headed toward the office that the gang was now scrambling inside, trying to get their guns ready, while at the same time trying to figure out what was going on.

  My feet hit the ground, and I skidded to a halt in the middle of the room.

  The men looked at me, their faces filled with confusion. I began to look each one of them in the eye, slowing turning as I did so. I tried to look tough and instill fear into them. I guess it worked, because some of them ran out of the room, yelling things in Spanish.

  In the end, only four remained, including Charlie.

  “So this is it?” I asked.

  “It’s either you or deportation to the worst Mexican prison,” Charlie said. “I choose you.”

  I smirked. “Why not both?”

  With that, I ran to him in a split second, my speed having returned. I punched him in the face hard, but not super-strength hard. I was holding back, only hitting him with the power of a normal human.

  Charlie stumbled, but quickly regained his composure. He swung at me, but I didn’t dodge in time. The punch connected, and I felt an explosion of pain for a split second before my powers began to heal me, taking away all the pain. I punched him back harder this time, angry that he’d gotten one in on me, but also angry at myself for freezing and not dodging in time.

  Charlie landed in a heap on the ground, my punch having knocked him out. I reminded myself to tone it down a bit. I could easily take all these guys out in a matter of seconds, but not only was the point of all this to practice my fighting on real targets, I would most likely kill them if I had my powers turned up to eleven.

  I turned around, ready to take on the other three, and also making a mental note to make sure I didn’t actually hurt Charlie too badly later.

  I was met with a fist slamming into the center of my face, sending me faltering back a few steps.

  “Move!” one of the men shouted at the guy who had gotten the surprise attack in on me.

  He did, and I found myself staring down the barrel of a pistol. The man on the other side of the room fired, and the bullet came flying toward me. I threw my hand up and caught it just inches from my face. I redirected it toward the leg of the man who’d punched me, and quit moving fast, causing time to return to its normal speed.

  The man screamed in pain as the bullet tore through his leg. He fell to the ground, out of commission for the rest of the fight.

  The other guy with a gun emptied his weapon, but I simply stepped to the right. All the bullets harmlessly flew past me, and the man stared at me, frozen in shock and fear.

  The other one in the room wasn’t frozen, however. He began to run to the door, having figured out that he wasn’t going to be able to defeat me, and that I was just toying with them.

  I ran to the door as fast as I could, blocking the man from exiting. He let out a yelp of fear. I could tell he was wracking his brain, trying to figure out how I had suddenly appeared in front of him.

  He turned and began running toward one of the windows, but I blocked his path again. This time I’d scared him so much he fell to the ground. He scrambled away from me on his hands and knees, backwards, not breaking eye contact with me.

  I began to feel a bit guilty for scaring them so badly, but then I remembered what these men had done. Not only that day, but all the days before it. The countless number of people they had probably killed.

  I heard a scream and looked up in time to see the man who had been shooting at me earlier come at me swinging the butt of his pistol straight at my face. Again, I’d gotten distracted, and again, I took an unexpected blow directly to my nose. This time I felt the bones shatter, and fell to the ground. They began to heal themselves almost as soon as they were broken, but still, I could feel the pain for a few agonizing seconds. Before I could get up, the man began kicking me in my sides.

  He got in two good kicks before I grabbed his foot and slammed him to the ground. His head hit the ground with a sickening thud. The man began shaking violently, his whole body seizing. Foam shot from his mouth.

  My entire body tensed, and I thought I was going to throw up. I began to panic, not knowing what to do. I was still lying on the ground, eye to eye with a man who was having a seizure because of me. I was paralyzed with fear.

  “Please,” I heard someone say. I looked up and saw the man I had nearly frightened to death looking at me. He was on his knees next to his seizing friend. “Please, I am sorry.” His eyes were big, and tears began to fall from them. I realized how young he looked. He couldn’t have been much older than me. “Do not let my friend die. We will surrender. Please. Do something.”

  I realized that I couldn’t just leave the man there, and that I had to do something. Even though they were evil people, I was the one who had caused him to be in this situation. I had to try to help sort it out.

  I picked the man up in my arms and ran outside as fast as I could. I placed him on the ground next to some paramedics who were checking out some of the hostages.

  Everybody jumped back and let out a gasp. “Help him!” I shouted.

  The paramedics rushed to the man’s side, and I bolted toward the command center that had been set up in the back of a van. Everybody jumped and gasped, just like the paramedics had moments earlier. I rolled my eyes, but it was a reaction that I was going to have to get used to.

  “I’m finished,” I said. “They’re all yours.”

  With that, I launched myself high into the air, flying away as fast as I could, trying to figure out whether or not I’d made a huge mistake.

  Enemy of the State

  I walked through the back door of my house and headed straight for the living room. Mom gasped as I walked in. She and Dad were watching my escapade on the news as I collapsed in a heap on the cool leather couch. I was so tired and drained, I felt as if I could sleep for days.

  Mom rushed to my side and began checking me for any wounds.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” I said as I pushed myself up to a sitting position. “Just really worn out.”

  “You did good, Kane,” Dad said, standing with his arms crossed, wearing a big smile.

  “Really?” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Because it felt like I did pretty crappy.”

  Dad shrugged. “Well, I said you did good, not that you did well.”

  I let out a moan and lay back down on the couch. “I don’t feel as if I’m any better now than I was when I left.” I wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, just thinking out loud.

  “What were you expecting, to come back and be better than Richter?” Dad asked as he walked to the recliner next to the couch and sat down in it. He leaned forward in his chair. “You gotta take something from this. Surely there’s something you can learn.”

  “That I need more practice,” I said.

  “Well, then, that’s what we’re going to have to do.”

  I turned my attention to the TV, which was showing the news. They were showing footage of a blue blur running in and out of the warehouse, carrying hostages to safety. I couldn't help but smile.

  “Three of the hostage takers are in critical condition after the new Super stormed past police and the SWAT team and took matters into his own hands. The White House released a statement just moments after the situation in Texas ended.”

  The scene shifted to an image of the president standing behind a podium, most likely deep within a bunker at an undisclosed location, safe from Richter. His tan skin looked weathered and his hair was
turning gray. Most of his aging had probably happened in the time since Richter had first appeared.

  “The situation in Texas is a tricky one. While we're all happy that there were no casualties and the hostages are safe, it could have gone very differently. I have full confidence that our law enforcement agencies would have done their jobs, and gotten everyone to safety, without the interference of the superhuman we're code naming Tempest, in lieu of an official statement from the superhuman himself.”

  “Oooh, Tempest. I like it,” I said.

  My dad nodded. “It sounds badass.”

  Mom shot him a look for using language, but he ignored it.

  The president continued. “We would like Tempest to stop interfering with any government agencies, and allow our trained, professional, and efficient law enforcement personnel to do the work they do best.

  “And also, to Tempest, a warning. Should you use your powers in any way, you are effectively making yourself an enemy of the United States of America. We will not have another Richter on our hands. We are working on a solution to the Richter problem, one we hope to resolve shortly. We understand that you're trying to help and do good. But you don't have to be a superhuman to be a hero. So, please, stay out of the way. I will authorize the same measures that will be exercised on Richter to be exercised on you, should the situation call for it.

  “Thank you, and may God bless the United States of America.”

  The screen returned to the news anchor, and she began to comment on the president’s statement. I tuned it out, though, as I was processing what I'd just heard.

  I was the only person on Earth who'd ever actually hurt Richter, and now they were telling me to back off. It wasn’t like anything they'd done helped the situation any! All they'd managed to do was shoot missiles at him that amounted to little more than expensive fireworks. They’d gotten many soldiers killed at the beginning of the chaos, before they knew what they were dealing with. Not that they knew now, apparently, since I was the only one who'd actually gotten anything done.