Ascension (The Ascension Series) (24 page)

“Okay,
alright,” John said wearily as if he were completely overwhelmed.

He sat down and filled out a dozen papers asking for names, contact information, addresses, and his relationship to the accused.
After completing and turning in the papers, John had to sit and wait for more than an hour. The minutes seemed to pass at a slower-than-usual pace as John thumbed around. He nodded off with his head slumped over more than once, waiting for the proper release time. Finally the time came and his father─ wearing his prosthetic leg, hobbled into the reception area. Without hesitation, John jumped up and placed his father’s arm around his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” his father said hoarsely. He was more unkempt than usual. His clothing was filthy and his health appeared to be of the poorest condition.

“It’s okay,” John said sympathetically as he helped his father walk out of the county jail. It was completely dark outside and his father looked around.

“How do we get home?” his father coughed.

“Come on,” John told him. “Just follow me.”

“Are we going to walk?”

John didn’t reply, he simply headed toward the woods. When they were completely out of sight, John looked into the air.

“Now what?” his father asked. “How do we get home?”

“Hold on tight,” John told him.

John grabbed his father and his father held onto him.
John closed his eyes; he cleared his mind and concentrated. Immediately he shot into the air with his father grasping him. Together they flew through the night sky as a cold windy breeze hit them. John’s father was speechless. His mouth was agape as he looked down and watched as Cincinnati turned into a colony of ants. He looked at his son but John did not look back at him.

Neither son nor father said a word to each other until they descended onto the porch of their house several minutes later. John opened the
front door and walked into their house as his father followed after him.

“What was that?” his father said, nearly crying. “How did you do that?”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Alexander,” John told his father.

“How is that
─ possible?” his father asked, still stunned.

“I have been granted the powers of God,” John told him
solemnly. “I can do anything.”

“I don’t believe you,”
his father said.

John reached his hand out and his father’s cane lifted off the floor of the living room. John
slowly moved his arm and guided the cane into his father’s hands.

“Are you a prophet?” his father asked wildly.

“I think it so.”

“I’m so sorry,” his father began crying. “I didn’t know.”

“Why were you charged with possession of methamphetamines,” John asked him.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Answer me, Alexander!”

His father began crying. “I have a problem, son. A bad problem. Ever since your mother killed herself. This is what’s become of me. But you─ you can make me better. God has sent you hear to make me better. Your powers.”

“I cannot do that.”

“But you said you could do anything,” his father bemoaned.

“I cannot give you strength, Alexander.”

His father slowly walked over to the mantelpiece. He approached his military effects and
placed a hand on his Purple Heart certificate. Then he grabbed his military beret and walked over to John.

“Please son,” John’s father said. “Forgive me. Forgive me for all the wrong I’ve caused you. The pain, the hurt─ I want you to have this.”
He reached the beret out to John. “You can still become the man I once was. Please son, wear it proud.”

John placed his hand out and the beret swept in midair from his father’s hands to his own hands.

***

The same night, miles and miles away at Walsh Manor, Charles was in his bedroom along with a girl. Both of them were mostly undressed and frolicking around on his bed. Then Charles looked up at his large television as the latest news report
grabbed his attention.

“Wait,” Charles told the girl. “Hold on. I want to see this.”

The girl let go of him and lied on the bed as Charles turned the volume up.

“We previously reported on the John A. Roebling Suspension Bridge and how it required work,” said the newscaster. “Well earlier this evening several wires on the bridge snapped. It placed a school bus full of children in fatal danger as they fought for their lives. Half of the bus was dangling over the bridge due to a portion of the bridge collapsing. But everyone is safe after an event being hailed as a miracle.”

The news switched to the school bus driver, a portly middle aged woman.

“The bus fell off the bridge and then it just suddenly stopped in midair. I swear, we were suspended in the air right before
we could hit the river. Then the bus moved. It began to fly upward and positioned itself back on the bridge. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life. It was God’s doing!”

The newscaster returned to the screen. “Many people doubt the bus driver’s claims while others believe the bus was saved by the same mysterious masked vigilantes that patrol the streets at night. The only official confirmation we have is that police have opened an investigation and are actively looking for t
he costumed heroes that appear throughout Cincinnati at night.”

The news concluded as the girl in Charles’s room pulled him back onto the bed.

“You believe it’s true?” she asked. “That there are superheroes saving people in Cincinnati?”

“Nah,” Charles shrugged. “
Sounds like a bunch of bull.” 

Suddenly there were several thunderous knocks at Charles’s door. He told the girl to hide under the bed and she did as instructed. Moments later Charles’s father opened his door and stormed into his room.

“What’s all that noise!?” his father asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You know damn well what I mean, Charles. You’re half naked and I heard a girl laughing in here. I told you that you were not allowed to have any more girls over until your grades improved.”

“Come on, dad. I’ve been working on it!”

“That’s not good enough, son.”

As his father was pointing his finger at Charles, they both heard someone sneeze.

“What was that?” his father asked.

“I don’t know,” Charles lied.

His father looked under his bed and found the girl. He reached under and pulled her out.

“And just what is this Charles?” his father asked angrily.

“Whoa! Where did she come from?” Charles said as he laughably pretended to not know. “There was a girl under my bed? Was she here the whole time!?”

“You know damn well she was here, Charles. I’ve had enough of your antics.”

“Come on, I was just having a little fun. It’s no big deal, dad.”

“Those grades of yours are certainly a big deal, young man!”

“Dude, calm down,” Charles snapped.

His father pee
red at him and clenched his jaw. “If you ever refer to me as ‘dude’ again, I’ll rearrange those cracking vocal cords of yours.”

CHAPTER 11

Far across the pond in London, England, sat a crowd of thousands at a Formula One racing event. There was loud cheering on this sunny day in London. A quarter of the crowd were sipping cups of cool dark brew while another quarter of the crowd waved foam fingers into the air. Others stood on their feet and roared with applause. The hand claps came equally from male and female, young and old.

Everyone’s eyes looked to the tracks. There were various single-seat, open cockpit racing cars moving at tremendous speeds. The small vehicles came in various colors and sped around the circular tracks over and over. But one car stood out in particular. It was a red vehicle that, to the audience, seemed to be moving at the speed of light. The red vehicle was far ahead of the others. It sped laps around the other vehicles and eventually
was crowned the winner as the red light flashed.

The crowd roared with applause
when the race was over. The cars stopped and the drivers jumped out. Cameras, reporters, and racing officials all suddenly ran up to the winner. It was eighteen year old Daniel LaRent. He was wearing a red jumpsuit outfitted with various logos on the front, back, and arms of the suit. He removed his matching helmet, smiled as countless pictures were taken, and ran his hands through his hair.

“How do you do it, Dan?” a reporter asked. “How do you remain undefeated?”

“What do you attribute your success to?” another reporter asked.

“And do you think this winning streak will ever come to an end?” yet another reporter questioned him.

Big Dan was being bombarded with questions as interviewers jammed microphones into his face. Then three officials made their way to Daniel and handed him a large silver trophy.

“And the winner of the Grand Prix,” said a booming
English voice through a microphone that electrified the crow, “Daniel LaRent!”

The crowd cheered louder than ever as Dan smiled and waved. After se
veral moments he stepped up to the microphone and spoke.

“I’ve gotten here by a great deal of
practice,” Big Dan smiled. “I’m very proud of what I’ve accomplished.”

“What city are you from?” asked a reporter
with a cockney accent who wore a brown trench coat.

Big Dan ignored him as he continued to speak. “I hope my winning streak will go on for as long as it can. I consider it an honor to be racing here in London.”

“What American city are you from?” the same reporter asked once more.

“Thank you,” Dan said as he continued to ignore the reporter. “That is all.”

Confetti blasted through the air as Dan made his way through the crowd. He quickly squeezed his way into a limousine as the frenzy of reporters and fans attempted to rush him. In the limo, he was joined by his English assistant, Becky, and they took off.

“Wild crowd out there,” Beck
y said.

“Sure is,” Big Dan smiled.

“You really enjoy it, don’t you?” she asked him.

“Every minute of it,” Big Dan admitted.

The limousine took them into the city and arrived at a luxurious condominium. Dan had recently purchased the fifteenth floor condo for one million euros. Aside from his assistant he had a chef, a maid, and a security guard to tend to his every need. When he got to his place, he took his driving outfit off, cleaned himself up, and placed on a pair of silk pajamas along with an ornate red robe. It was midday but he was getting to unwind as if it were nighttime.

His chef brought him out a bottle of sparkling champagne and swiftly returned to the kitchen.

Then there came a knock at the door followed by a buzzing of the doorbell. The ring disturbed Dan as he placed his feet onto a leather sofa in his living room.

“I’ll get it!” yelled the maid. She returned to the living room a moment later with a man wearing a brown trench coat.

“The reporter is here for you, Mr. LaRent,” said the maid. She walked off before Dan could tell her that he had not invited a reporter over.

“I saw y
ou earlier,” said the reporter in his cockney accent. “You were terrific out there.”

“Thanks,” Dan said wearily. “But I didn’t know I was scheduled for an interview this afternoon.”

“Oh, no worries,” said the reporter. “This shouldn’t take long. My name is Plainfield.”

“Alright,” Dan said.

“I was the reporter in the crowd asking which American city you were from, Mr. LaRent.”

“Oh…”

“You’re still not going to tell me, Mr. LaRent?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I thought not,” Plainfield laughingly hacked.

“I think it’s time you made your exit, Mr. Plainfield.”

“Not so fast, Daniel. First we need to discuss those super powered friends of yours in Cincinnati.”

“What?” Dan asked nervously.

“Ooh, that’s exactly the sort of reaction I was expecting. How long did you think you could hide it, Dan? Your lads back in Cincinnati appeared in the news recently. They apparently saved a bus load of children yesterday. Stunning stuff, innit?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dan nervously lied.

“Oh come on, Daniel. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You see, I did a bit of inquiring myself. It’s sort of what journalism is all about. You just come out of nowhere winning Grand Prixes one after the other at the tender age of eighteen. The quantum speedometers used on the races show that your opponents are driving at a pace twenty-five percent slower than yours. Twenty-five percent slower than these drivers usually sped before you got here.”

“Tests were done on
their engines,” Dan said. “There were no signs of foul play.”

“Exactly!” Plainfield the reporter laughed. “The audience lapped it up like dogs on a hot day
. But I kept wondering why these drivers were moving slower. That’s when things started to come together. I did my research on you, Mr. LaRent. I see you hailed from Cincinnati only two months ago. Just as sightings of young people with unbelievable powers cropped up. It’s more than just coincidence, Daniel. I know you were one of them. That’s how you rigged the races. Those crazy mental powers of yours have allowed you to slow down the engines of every other driver on the track. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“What do you want from me?”
Dan asked him.

“Hold your horses, chap. I’m getting there. But as I said, brilliant, isn’t it? Your buddies back in the states are fighting crime, saving people from burning buildings and broken bridges. But you─ you’re using your gifts solely to benefit yourself.
Can’t say I blame you. Two months now and you’ve got this beautiful flat… and what? An endorsement deal worth eight million euros. You are a mastermind.”

“I said what do you want from me?” Dan asked again.

“That
is
what I want. Eight million euros.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dan said furiously.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Plainfield asked sternly. “Eight million or the world will know what you really are.” Plainfield smiled slyly as he tipped his hat.

The maid returned to the living room and Dan asked her to show Mr. Plainfield his way out.

“See you around, Daniel!” Plainfield yelled as he exited through the door.

***

Back in Cincinnati, it was Wednesday evening. Clark and Sarah were flying to the warehouse headquarters where they met up with the other group members in order to suit up. When they entered the warehouse, Charles told them that he had been grounded by his father but snuck out in order to fulfill his duty as a costumed vigilante. Donny and Chloe arrived and they each got dressed. Clark became Night Wolf. Sarah was Summer Saturn. Donny was Tracks. Chloe was Surefire. And Charles was Shadow Fly. Placing on their costumes transformed them into their alter-egos.

John arrived lastly. He was already wearing his crime-fighting uniform under his trench coat.
But along with his mask, he was wearing the black military beret given to him by his father.

“What’s with the beret?” Charles asked when John entered the warehouse.

“It’s my new look,” John said.

“So are you, like, Captain Kyote now?” Charles laughed.

“No,” John said. “Don’t call me that. It’s really corny. I’m still just Kyote.”

“Alright,
alright. Sounds good,” Charles said.

“Okay, I see you’re already dressed, John,” Clark said. “Is everyone ready to go?”

They all nodded and agreed to fly as opposed to taking the Humvee. They were attracting too much attention and a large tank-like vehicle would do them no favors. So they left through the back of the warehouse, which Charles made them refer to as the Mecha, and flew off into the night. With their earpieces in that allowed them to pick up police radio frequencies, they headed west to a neighborhood that cops were patrolling.

They flew to the neighborhood and discovered a dangerous shootout occurring. Police officers were taking cover behind their ca
rs as several gang members shot at them with automatic rifles.

“Go behind them!” Clark yelled in the sky to his team. Sarah and John followed Clark while the others went to protect the cops. Clark, Sarah, and John each dropped behind a different gang member and made their guns lift into the air.
The gangsters began reaching for their guns until they turned around to face the masked heroes that stopped them. Clark, Sarah, and John blind-sided them with force as they hit the gang members and knocked them to the ground. Then the three costumed heroes looked at the large guns, which were suspended in midair, and twisted them into pretzels.

“
Not on my watch,” Clark told the gang members who were laid out.

Charles, Donny, and Chloe were making sure the officers were alright when one of the officers drew his gun on them.

“No!” John yelled from afar. He made the officer’s gun rip out of his hand. He stared at the gun and it tore into a million tiny pieces of metal.

“We’re the good guys,” Chloe told the frightened officers.

“Don’t worry, we’re just trying to help,” Donny nodded to them.

“What are you?” one of the officers asked.

“We’re superheroes, what else?” Donny said jokingly.

“Come on guys!” Clark shouted. “Let’s go!”

Clark took off into the air and all of his masked friends followed behind him.

“Alright,” Clark yelled through the air when they were all far away from the shootout scene. “I’m getting a report of a group of troublemakers downtown. Not far from union square. Let’s go.”

They flew off to the downtown area and perused the perimeter until they came across the sight of numerous black-clad armored criminals. One of them had a flamethrower while another had a large automatic rifle. The streets were empty as they wreaked havoc across the entire block.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, little masked heroes!”
yelled one of the men.

Clark swooped down and made the tip of the criminal’s gun bend downward. He was unable to shoot from it so he threw it to
the ground. The other superheroes descended onto the street and Charles used his powers to pull the flamethrower backpack off of the second goon.

Clark punched the criminal who had the gun and knocked him to the ground. Then Clark grabbed
him by the collar as he lied on the cement.

“What do you want from us?” Clark yelled. “Why are you doing this!?”

Chloe used her powers to pin the second criminal against a wall.

“Don’t you go anywhere,” Chloe said to him.

The man who Clark was on top of laughed and pointed his hand out. Clark punched the criminal in the face which bloodied the man’s nose. Then Clark turned around to see what the man was pointing at. Sarah gasped. On the other end of the street corner was another man wearing black armor. He held a bazooka in his arms and pulled the trigger. A small rocket propelled out of the bazooka and went flying toward them. Donny grabbed Chloe while Sarah tried to pull Clark away from the criminal on the ground.

John held his hand out and the rocket stopped in midair. It turned around as John redirected it back to the armored criminal. The man wearing black began running as he saw the rocket shoot after him. Suddenly the rocket reached him and
exploded. The criminal was blown to smithereens and a large portion of the block was flowing with fiery debris.

“What the hell was that?” Donny asked.

“They meant to get us here,” Clark said. “They wanted us to be here.”

“Why?” Chloe asked.

“I guess they were trying to kill us,” Sarah suggested.

John said nothing; he merely assessed the devastation around him.

“Shit,” Charles said. “One had a bazooka and another had a flamethrower. Find out who they work for.”

The man who Chloe had pinned to the wall
remained silent. Chloe blinked her eyes and the man dropped to the ground and screamed in pain.