Making supers 1, p.1
Making Supers 1, page 1
Making Supers 1
Dante King
Copyright © 2022 by Dante King
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
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Immortal Swordslinger
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About the Author
Chapter 1
I caught a flight to Empyrion with nothing except what was in my pockets and the promises of a parent I hadn’t seen in three years. It was a small connecting flight, nothing major, but even the technological center of the US hadn’t figured out how to get their own international airport just yet. It was a trial sitting next to a lovely old lady with endless stories about her six cats, but I’d learned that it never hurt to be polite, even to annoying strangers. I hit the airport lounge thirty minutes later, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me as I strolled through security with a friendly smile and watchful eyes.
I hadn’t been home in years.
Businesspeople and families swarmed through the tastefully decorated lounge in a wash of excitement, impatience, and high-running emotions. Advertising flickered on digital screens on every available surface.
I stopped at a small cafe on my way toward the taxi rank and offered the barista a quick smile and fifteen bucks for two coffees.
“Meeting someone?” the cute brunette asked.
“Maybe I’m just chronically addicted to caffeine,” I replied. “You never know with us frequent fliers.”
Her tongue toyed with a lip piercing for a second, and she shook her head. “Nah, you’re meeting someone.”
“Guilty as charged.” I chuckled. “Long black and a latte.”
My gaze drifted to a TV beside the automatic doors that led to the exits. Flashes of a supermodel in spandex played over a running banner. Superhero extraordinaire Phenomenon rescues innocents on a bus amidst supervillain attack, it said, and the camera made special care to focus on her assets.
I tried not to roll my eyes at it and turned back to the much more interesting barista. The girl’s hands flashed over the top-of-the-line coffee machine with practiced ease, and she caught my eye with an almost shy smile. I didn’t know how the girl managed to fit so much energy into her movements, but there was focus, precision, and talent to her coffee-making. A pen bounced in a messy bun as she blended beans, and the apron did nothing to hide just how amazing the girl looked in denim shorts and a band t-shirt.
“You’re new in town?” she asked.
“Pretty new,” I said.
“Hmm. Most newcomers have luggage.”
“You’re with security, aren’t you?”
That made her laugh, and the surprising depth of the sound warmed my insides.
“Nah, not little old me.” Her eyes drifted to the TV, and she smirked. “You don’t look too impressed at our local heroes, mister. Anyone else might get suspicious about that. No suitcase, newcomer who doesn’t fall down to his knees at the sight of a woman in latex?”
I eyed her. “Maybe I’m internalizing.”
“Maybe,” the barista said. “But you don’t look like a guy who internalizes much.”
“Well, this shouldn’t catch you off-guard, then. Got dinner plans?”
The barista’s smile could have lit up a city with a broken power grid. “Good looking, quippy, and confident? I’d almost be tempted, mister. But I’m busy, unfortunately.”
I put a hand over my heart with a hurt expression. “The barista giveth, and the barista taketh away. I don’t know how I’ll recover from this.” My wounded air vanished a moment later as she pushed a tray of two takeaway cups in front of me. “You take care.”
“You too, mysterious stranger.” The barista beamed as she turned to her newest customers.
I retrieved the nectar of life and headed out. A couple of families held signs, waiting for their beloved to return from journeys unknown, and I found a bench seat near the taxi lines. My ride wouldn’t be here for another few minutes, and I had plenty of practice waiting. The swarms of people, the American accents, and the sheer energy of it all was a contrast to what I last remembered of Empyrion.
The Pinnacle, America’s greatest superhero team, was based out of their flying tower over the city’s skyline. My gaze drifted up to it, half-shrouded by clouds in the distance, and I tried not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight.
Superheroes were serious business, of course, but a flying skyscraper must have been hell on the local air traffic. I guessed they didn’t have to worry about a stray helicopter or drone scratching the paint of their high-tech dick in the sky when the US government, news networks, and Hollywood had a hard-on for pouring money into their pockets.
My eyes settled back on the surging crowd around me, and I recalled my dad’s instructions. He’d posted me a letter in the mail, in code, and told me the particulars.
1430 ET, Empyrion Domestic. New Story Quest.
The message conjured an image of Brandon Silver to my mind, hunched over a gaming PC with a manic grin on his face, and excitement sparkling behind a pair of steel-rimmed glasses.
My dad had always loved his MMOs, and they’d been part of our conversations ever since I’d first played with him. A Story Quest meant that it was an important family matter, something to do with his old company.
I stretched my legs out with a sigh of appreciation. At least it wasn’t an XP grind-quest like the last assignment. My legs were still sore from the altercations with the kickboxers in Bangkok.
A new car glided into a park in front of me. It was an old, well-maintained sedan, but the shield on the front of the vehicle indicated that it was a custom vehicle, not something churned out by cheap overseas manufacturers. The silvery ‘S’ marked it as an old SilverSky Industries fleet car, which had my dad’s signature written all over it.
My ride had arrived.
A gorgeous woman stepped out of the driver’s seat. Straight strawberry-blonde hair danced in the slight breeze as she straightened up with a sigh, and the afternoon sunlight caught on her wide-rimmed glasses.
Casual office attire clung to all the right curves without being deliberately eye-catching, but doing nothing to hide her height or her long, toned legs. Form-fitting trousers, pumps, and an open-necked blouse of pressed white suited her perfectly, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine the girl running an office with ruthless efficiency.
I approached the car before she managed to cross to the sidewalk.
Her emerald-green eyes came to rest on me. A smile pulled at a set of sensuous lips that stirred my lower machinery.
I set the matched pair of takeaway cups down on the roof of the sedan and pushed them toward her with a smile.
“You must be Dean,” she said.
“I can be someone else, if it works better.”
She arched an eyebrow at that, but she couldn’t quite suppress the grin. Her eyes fell to the coffee, and an almost lustful expression flickered over her face.
“I think you’ll do just fine,” she said. “Which one is yours?”
“Whichever. I don’t mind cow juice.”
“But you prefer black,” she guessed. “Like your dad.”
I suppressed my surprise. My old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call a people person, and he usually conducted business through false names or proxies when it came to the charred remains of SilverSky. But the beauty who had my jaw threatening to drop off knew him in person?
“You got me,” I admitted.
The bombshell lifted the latte out of the tray with well-manicured fingers. I scooped up the remaining cup. She dropped back into the car with an easy, practiced grace, and I immediately suspected dancing or gymnastics training in her skillset.
I pulled open the passenger door and slid into an interior of rich, fragrant leather, and all the bells and whistles that 2047 could provide. My driver’s eyes flickered over me for a moment, noted details, and nodded with renewed certainty.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dean. I’m Giselle Tyrren, and I worked with Brandon.”
“Worked, past tense,” I noted, and took a sip of coffee. “Pleasure’s all mine, Giselle.”
Giselle slid the car away from the cab rank and took us from the domestic terminal and into the city of Empyrion.
I thought back to my dad’s message, fixed on the Story Quest part of it, and waited for my driver to start the conversation.
Giselle looked relaxed, but I could tell she had questions from the way her gaze flicked over me, my lack of bags, and the still-healing scars on my knuckles. My admiration of the woman increased. She knew where to look, and what to look for, which meant she had a good tactical awareness of people.
“I guess I should say welcome home,” Giselle began.
“Haven’t been here in thirteen years,” I said. “So it’s not exactly home. But thanks.”
Giselle nodded. “Brandon reached out to me two days ago. He told me that you were coming home, and I needed to take you to one of our old sites. Well, I assume that’s what he meant, because he gave me an address for it, but he called it a ‘bind spot’.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one he does that to.” I grinned. “Means that it’s safe, and he’s probably left something there for me. It’s a drop-off site.”
“Oh. A gaming term?”
“Yeah.” I took another sip of coffee and let my gaze turn to the window. “So, you work corporate these days, or are you in consulting?”
Giselle blinked. “Corporate. I’m a project manager at SatSec. How’d you know?”
“Your outfit. Expensive enough to be upper-class, but subtle enough that you’re used to the money, and don’t need to flaunt it. Plus, dad made sure that all his former employees found gigs when SilverSky folded.” I frowned as I recalled most of the major companies in Empyrion. “SatSec is Satellite Security, right? You’re in cybersecurity?”
Giselle turned onto one of the main arterials and took a long drink of her latte.
“Got it in one. You don’t miss much.” She smiled. “Neither does Brandon, though. So I shouldn’t really be surprised. What about you? Busted up knuckles, short haircut, military boots? Screams ‘security consultant’, or ‘soldier of fortune’ to me.”
“Depends on the day. Sometimes I’m a clown at birthday parties.”
Giselle laughed at that, a throaty purr that gave me goosebumps. “Doubt it.”
I took note of the scenery as we rolled past hundreds of other vehicles. The airport was outside Empyrion’s main Business District. Tightly packed corporate skyscrapers jostled for prominence beside each other and fought for elbow room between expensive restaurants and hotels.
I watched the buildings and billboards flicker by and flash drivers with new advertisements for Pinnacle’s latest documentaries, and fashions modeled by hot superhumans who didn’t need Photoshop to cause spontaneous erections.
“Supes are all the rage,” I observed. “Wasn’t this bad last time I was here.”
Giselle smiled. “This is Empyrion, Dean. It’s the heart of their operation, and still has the highest percentage of supervillain attacks in the US. Every punk who learns they have powers wants a shot at Pinnacle. It’s Pinnacle’s way of reminding everyone that they’re here, and ready to step in at a moment’s notice.”
“And to sell t-shirts and underwear,” I added dryly. “What’d you do with dad?”
“I was an intern, and he made me a research assistant. It wasn’t anything major, not like the biotech stuff he was into. We were looking at countermeasures for EMP attacks, mostly. There was a supervillain who took half the city’s technology off the grid for a day or two, and he wanted to find a preventative measure.”
“Damn. Smart, ambitious, and gorgeous. Bet he hated letting you go.”
Giselle coughed politely to hide her smile. “He did, but the grants dried up. Do you have any idea what he left behind for you? What any of this is all about?”
“Guessing he didn’t tell you, either.”
“Brandon’s always been quiet about a lot of his projects,” Giselle said.
“Yeah, he likes his eccentric air of mystery. Where are we headed?”
“Castillo.”
“Upper-class residential district,” I noted. “Weird place for a lab.”
“Like you said, he likes his mystery. Can’t help but notice the lack of bags. You didn’t have anything to bring with you?”
“I move around a lot. No point getting attached to anything if I’m just going to have to sell or dump it every couple of weeks. Besides, I like traveling light. Keeps things interesting.” I leaned back in my seat and kept my eyes on the road ahead.
“Even people who travel light still have a spare set of clothes,” she argued. “What happens if someone spills coffee on you or something?”
“They buy me a new shirt. And I get caffeinated by osmosis. Pretty good deal, really.”
Giselle fixed me with a half-serious look. “So you expect me to believe you just drift from country to country, place to place, and follow up your father’s instructions on a whim? Like you’re some kind of invisible spy or something?”
“Dad would say I’m a true adventurer.” I chuckled. “But something like that, yeah.”
“I can’t imagine. I’d go insane without some kind of routine.”
“I go crazy if I have a routine.”
Giselle took a turn off the highway and drove down a maze of tightly-woven streets. People in business outfits, hipster wannabes walking their dogs, and kids in private-school uniforms crowded the sidewalks as they made their way home.
Castillo was an aggressively gentrified neighborhood, all McMansions and young money, and we were cut off by at least two sports cars as Giselle pushed the sedan closer to the location my old man had given her. She demonstrated superhuman patience as we reached our fifth set of red lights in ten minutes, and finished her coffee with a contented sigh.
“Do you have any plans after this?” Giselle asked.
“Figured we could get dinner,” I replied. “Seems the least I could do after dad has you driving me around like this. Although you’d have been a great cab driver in another life.”
“Smooth.” Giselle laughed. “What makes you think that I’m even available?”
“Intuition. No wedding ring, but you look like you’re in your late twenties, and a serious player in corporate. Most guys are intimidated by you, and those that aren’t don’t interest you much.”
“Next thing I know, you’ll be calling me a spinster.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I assured her.
“Tell you what,” Giselle said, “if this doesn’t take too long, I know a nice place in Downtown that does half-decent Italian. But you’ll need to work a little harder if you think it’s a date.”
“Challenge accepted.”
Giselle noted the street names and house numbers before she pulled to a halt outside of an old set of apartments. It stuck out from the neighborhood like a sore thumb, all unwashed bricks and cracked concrete. A steel gate with a rusted padlock barred our way in.
I stepped out of the sedan and reflexively scanned the street for any suspicious passersby. A couple walking a swarm of dachshunds watched us as they passed, but they didn’t set off my radar as a threat.
Giselle stepped out of the car in a flash of long legs and red hair, and joined me as I examined the gate for any structural weaknesses.
Six-foot brick walls stood either side of the gates and circled around the entire property. I’d half-expected razor wire, but a military compound in the middle of suburbia would have drawn too much attention. The apartments stood out, sure, but it wouldn’t have taken much imagination to figure that they were scheduled for later demolition.
“Where’s a supe when you need one?” I said. “They could use their dick and smack the padlock clean off for us. Make the whole thing easier.”
