Authors: Percival Constantine
Tags: #superhero teams, #superhero, #action, #science fiction, #sci-fi, #superheroes, #adventure
Sentinel gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to surrender, but he knew that Zenith had a point.
“Well, what is your answer?” asked Azarov.
“Call off your dogs.”
Azarov raised his hand and the Dreks all backed away, but still surrounded their target. Sentinel sighed and deactivated his armor, the holographic plates vanishing. He held up his arms in surrender.
CHAPTER 7
One by one, the members of Vanguard slowly stirred awake after falling unconscious to the enzymes secreted by the Dreks. Sentinel was already awake and sitting near them on the stone floor of their cell. A tiny lightbulb hung from the ceiling, providing the barest of illumination.
“Welcome back,” he said.
“What happened?” asked Gunsmith, pulling himself up to a sitting position. He’d been stripped of his armor and he cringed with every movement, his body sore from the battle and his head pounding.
“You guys were all taken down and there wasn’t much I could do to fight back. Had to surrender.” Sentinel lowered his head and sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Not the first time we’ve been taken prisoner, kid,” said Wraith.
Shift began to ask, “What about Ze—?” but Sentinel held a finger to his lips to silence her. He mouthed the word, “camera,” and Shift withdrew her question. The room was being monitored by Azarov and his staff.
Paragon reached a hand for her neck, feeling the inhibitor collar around it. “Gee, wonder where they got
this
technology…”
Sentinel lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, I was the one who created those things for the Khagan.”
Paragon sighed. “That’s not what I meant. It’s not your fault, the Analyst made a lot of people do things they regret. No, I’m talking about Cerberus. They had to have supplied the North Koreans with the inhibitors.”
“
Callus
did, not Cerberus,” said Gunsmith. “There are good people working for Cerberus. If not for Zukov, we wouldn’t even know this was going on.”
“And if not for Cerberus in the first place, we wouldn’t even be here,” said Paragon.
Gunsmith fixed his blue eyes on her. “So let’s continue with this train of logic, Anita. If it wasn’t for you turning on us in Tora Bora, we never would’ve been captured by the Khagan. Then maybe we could have stopped him before he caused so much trouble.” He then pointed at Sentinel. “Or if Lee hadn’t been working with the Red Fist, the Khagan would never have had the means to blow up the White House.”
“Hey!” said Sentinel.
Paragon folded her arms over her chest, glaring at the team’s leader. “That’s so unfair and you know it.”
Gunsmith narrowed his eyes. “Now you know how it feels. This isn’t Zukov’s fault, just like nothing you and Lee did for the Khagan was your fault.”
Sharkskin, now restricted to his human form because of the collar, stood up and stepped between the two. “Look, we can fight over who did what when, or we could start thinking of a way to get out of here.”
“Now we’re talkin’,” said Wraith.
“Why are we even in here to begin with?” asked Sentinel. “Why didn’t Azarov just kill us?”
“The smaller Dreks weren’t trying to…I dunno, infect us or whatever like they did with those guards,” said Shift. “Any guesses as to why?”
“Jim’s armor would have protected him. As for the rest of us, maybe they can’t affect specials,” said Paragon.
“Or maybe Azarov didn’t want us dead,” said Wraith. “This is a guy who’s spent decades trying to jump-start human evolution. He wanted to cut me up back in Virey. And he also experimented on the Exemplar so he could give the Khagan those powers.”
“And he’s here in North Korea trying to figure out how to engineer specials,” said Gunsmith. “He needs all of you, active specials in order to further his work.”
“Guys, quiet!” said Shift. “I think I hear footsteps.”
They all fell into silence. The heavy metal door was opened and two guards shoved another prisoner inside. She stumbled and fell to the ground, getting up immediately and rushing for the door. It was slammed shut and locked before she reached it. She pounded futilely on the surface a few times, then relented. Turning around, she pushed her back against the door and took in her new cellmates. As she stared at them, surprised at their colorful outfits, they also stared at her, amazed by her reddish skin, yellow hair, catlike eyes and pointed ears.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Was just about to ask you the same question,” said Sharkskin.
She stood tall and proud. “I am J’Karra of the Kotharian Empire.”
Wraith snickered. “What?”
“A world far from this one,” she said.
Wraith pointed at her with his thumb and looked cynically at his teammates. “So what, now aliens are real, too?”
Sharkskin shrugged. “Dude, we’re a team of superheroes who just got our asses kicked by genetically engineered monsters.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Gunsmith, looking at J’Karra.
The Kotharian didn’t give a response. She fixed her yellow eyes on Gunsmith, steadfastly refusing to answer his question.
“Oookay, let’s try another one,” said Gunsmith. “How did you get taken captive?”
Still nothing. Gunsmith shook his head and moved away. “I’m not hallucinating, am I? She
was
speaking English just a few minutes ago, right?”
“My mission is none of your concern,” she said.
Gunsmith looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “What mission would that be?”
“As I said, it is none of your concern,” said J’Karra. “All you need to know is that this place is producing something extremely dangerous.”
“Yeah, we know,” said Wraith, gesturing to the tears on his uniform. “Where do you think these scratches came from?”
“No, not those creatures. Something else.”
“Like what?” asked Paragon. “What else is Azarov working on here?”
J’Karra looked at her. “I do not know for sure. But it is far more powerful than his creations. This Azarov has created something far greater than even he realizes. And what is more, it may be too powerful to be properly contained.”
“Where were you when we woke up?” asked Paragon.
“Since my…arrival, Azarov has been running tests on me, trying to determine just what I am and how he can use me to further his goals,” said J’Karra.
“You’re wearing a collar, too,” said Sentinel, pointing at the device around J’Karra’s neck. “These things are designed to inhibit the powers of specials. But if you’re an alien, then why would he put one on you?”
J’Karra studied the confusion on their faces. “I do not know. Perhaps he believed I was one of you.”
Sentinel narrowed his eyes, studying her carefully. He didn’t quite buy her story. Even if Azarov believed at first that J’Karra was a special, after performing tests on her he would have discovered that she wasn’t of Earth. There was something this mysterious woman was hiding and that made Vanguard’s newest addition very uncomfortable.
***
Azarov entered his private office. It wasn’t very large, but he only needed minimal comforts. He approached the desk and removed a smartphone from a locked drawer, sitting in the chair and setting it down on his desk on a small stand. After turning it on, Azarov initiated a video call and the small screen filled with the face of a man with thinning gray hair and thick glasses. Another image appeared. This man was a bit younger and in better shape, but not far off in age from the first.
“Secretary Ramsey, General Callus,” said Azarov, resting his elbows on the chair’s armrests, steepling his fingers. “It is good to speak with you again.”
“Dr. Azarov, it’s been a long time,” said Ramsey, the Secretary of Defense for the United States.
“Yes. How are you, General? It seems you are settling into exile quite nicely.”
Callus grumbled. Since Gunsmith and Zukov exposed his illegal activities, he’d been on the run from Cerberus and the United Nations. “Just get to the point, Azarov. What do you have for us?”
“We have made some breakthroughs and we’ve stumbled across some interesting new test subjects,” said Azarov. “Including one who appears to be a special of alien origin. But these discoveries have come with some setbacks.”
“Like what?” asked Ramsey.
“Vanguard has returned. My new Dreks managed to overwhelm them, but their presence is a cause for concern,” said Azarov. “I believe this may be the work of Zukov.”
“Sonnuva bitch,” muttered Callus. “What about this alien? How can it help?”
“I’m still running tests on her. Tomorrow, I will also begin experimenting on Vanguard. The subjects General Bak has provided me with have been less than exemplary.”
A pounding noise came from the door. Azarov looked up at the locked door and shouted in Korean, “I said I am
not
to be disturbed!”
The pounding continued. Azarov sighed and looked down at the phone. “Excuse me, I have some underlings to eviscerate.”
He turned off the phone and rose from his chair. Just as he did, the door broke in. Two guards entered, holding their guns aimed at Azarov. He stood calmly with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Just what do you think you are doing?” he asked in Korean.
The guards gave no response. Azarov noticed their eyes had a soft glow to them, with a cloudy appearance. They opened fire.
Azarov stood there and took the assault, the bullets punching through his thin body. He waited until their guns clicked, the magazines spent. Azarov held out his arms and thin, bone-like claws stretched out from his fingertips.
He jumped on the desk and pounced, leaping at one of the guards. Azarov drew his claws across the guard’s throat, spilling blood everywhere. The scientist landed in a crouch and quickly sprung at the second guard, using his claws to tear the man from stem to sternum, gore pouring out over the floor.
“Very impressive, Doctor.”
The language was English, but the voice was actually a chorus, all speaking in unison. Azarov approached the broken door, stepping out into the main laboratory. He saw Han and the rest of his staff all staring at him, their eyes the same as the guards he’d just killed. They all spoke as one.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Azarov.
“This is what you created, Doctor,” said the group. “A new kind of special. One that can unite others to a common cause. We are the Collective.”
“It can’t be…the inhibitors…” muttered Azarov, looking at the screens showing readings from the specimens down below.
“The inhibitors only possess so much power. Over time, as we have grown stronger, we have managed to break through those barriers,” said the Collective. “And now, it is time for you to pay for what you have done to us.”
The staff advanced on Azarov. He took a step back, knees bent and claws bared. Once they came within range, Azarov cut loose, slicing through anyone who came too close. He tore through his victims with efficiency and cruelty, leaving them in a dismembered mess on the floor.
Only Han was still alive, and barely. He spoke again, in the voice of the Collective. “You think this will stop us? This is only the beginning.”
Azarov’s good eye widened in surprise. He impaled Han through the forehead and went to the security monitors. Quickly he checked on the specimen. He saw the men standing guard, their eyes the same as the other victims, opening the door and unleashing the Collective.
Dozens of men, women, and children—all test subjects exploited by Azarov—stepped out from the closed section. They were all moving as one, all of them with eyes that were fogged and glowing.
An alarm sounded. Azarov went to check on the source and he found a troubling message flashing on the screen. “No, they’re taking control of the Dreks…”
Only one monitor showed anything resembling normalcy. The cell that held Vanguard and J’Karra. They were still there, seemingly unaffected by the Collective.
Azarov studied the screen carefully. The Collective could take control of his staff and guards easily, as well as the Dreks. But Vanguard, the alien, and himself were another story.
All of them had something different, something that the Collective couldn’t touch. And that meant if Azarov had any hope of getting out of this alive, then the enemy of his enemy would now become his friend.
CHAPTER 8
The door to Vanguard’s cell opened and the team and J’Karra all stood from their seated positions, turning to the opening. They were surprised when they saw Erik Azarov step through the door, a large, leather bag at his feet.
“You sonnuva bitch!” Wraith lunged at Azarov, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him to the wall.
“S-stop!” said Azarov, his voice strained under the pressure of Wraith’s fingers.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t break your neck!” spat Wraith.
“I have two,” said Azarov. “One, as you are no doubt already aware, I cannot be killed.”
“Let’s find out,” said Wraith, narrowing his eyes and squeezing tighter.
“He survived the airstrike on Virey, he’s probably telling the truth.” Gunsmith looked into Azarov’s glass eye. “But what’s the other reason?”
“Check the bag.” Azarov gestured to his luggage just outside the door.
Gunsmith moved cautiously towards it, still keeping an eye on Azarov.
“Careful,” said Shift.
Gunsmith nodded and knelt down, pulling open the zipper. He reached inside and pulled some of the contents out. Crimson plating that had become very familiar to him.
“What is it?” asked Sharkskin.
Gunsmith looked up at Azarov. “It’s my armor. And Sentinel’s tech. And some other stuff that I assume belongs to J’Karra.”
Confusion crossed all their faces and they turned to Azarov for answers. Wraith still kept his grip on the scientist’s throat, holding him suspended above the ground. Gunsmith stood.
“Talk fast.”
“Can he put me down first?” asked Azarov.
“No!” both Wraith and Gunsmith said in unison.