The Invincibles (5 page)

“
HYPERMAN!” she gasped in feigned disbelief.

“
Her soul for the one true Lord of the Sky and Universe!” the hoods chanted in practiced unison. One leaped off the globe at Hyperman while the other climbed down to jab his blade into the woman’s heart.

Hyperman sighed. Did these kids take him for a fool? What were they? Twenty years old? He saw and measured their jumping heart rates and their racing pulses. His ears picked out the slightly stilted, rehearsed tones of their voices. His nostrils smelled nervousness and fear. Had they staged this little stunt just to get his attention? Well, they had it now.

He easily caught the hood pouncing at him with his knife and held him single-handedly by the throat in the air. The kid’s robe sparkled and fluttered in the high winds. Hyperman slightly tightened his grip and caused the hood to gag and drop the dagger, which Hyperman snagged and crushed between his fingers.

The other hood hung perched over the girl with his dagger up and about to jam down into the girl’s chest. His arm wavered, but held still. He was trying to stall. Hyperman rolled his eyes, and they glowed an eerie blue. Two beams shot out to hit and heat up the dagger. It burned too hot for the hood to hold.

“
Shit!” he yelped, throwing the blade down to the rooftop, then holding and shaking his hand. Twisting into a whirlwind, Hyperman swept him and the girl up before setting them down on the rooftop along with their other companion.

Stunned and dizzy, they stumbled about. The one hood had a handprint on his throat and he vomited. Pale and sick looking, the girl fumbled down into a sitting position. The other hood tripped over her and crashed down close to where his dagger lay. Scrambling toward it, he tried grabbing the blade, but its handle was still too hot. He yelped and snatched his hand away. Hovering above, Hyperman crossed his arms on his chest and gazed balefully down upon them, his eyes still flaring cosmic, fiery blue.

“
What was all this about?” he demanded.

To his horror, all three got down on their knees before him and bowed their heads.

“
Forgive us, oh Sky!” the hood with the handprint on his throat said.

“
We…we thought this was the only way we’d ever get to meet you!” the girl added.

Hyperman’s jaw dropped. “You did this stupid, STUPID thing just to meet me? What if I hadn’t shown up? You’ve been up here playing with knives! The wind could have knocked you off! You could have been killed!”

“
We were only risking our own worthless lives!” the other hood said, averting his eyes, but still holding his burnt hand.

“
Praise be the sky and universe!” the girl shouted. “He who walks above us!”

“
He who walks above us!” the hoods repeated.

“
Who…who are you?” Hyperman asked.

“
Your faithful!” the girl answered.

The three of them simultaneously pressed buttons on the insides of their robes. Infinity symbols lit all across their robes’ fabric, each flashing blue, silver, and white.

Hyperman stared. He had no idea how to respond to something like this.

“
I-I…don’t deserve this!” he finally managed to say.

“
But the miraculous things you do!” the hood rubbing his reddened throat said.

“
All the lives and worlds you’ve saved!” the other hood added.

“
You shine greater than the lesser gods and devils that walk among us!” the girl cried out.

Hyperman shook his head. “No, you…you don’t understand. I just do what I can like anyone else would. Some people are smarter…or…or…faster or they’re a great artist or writer! Everyone has their own talents and uses them to contribute however they can to the world!”

“
You are the world, the sky, and the universe!” the three chanted.

“
No! I’m only a person! A person with gifts, nothing more! I swear!”

“
You are our Heaven-In-One! You save us, and we live on through you! You carry all the lives, worlds, and hearts you touch with you through eternity!”

Hyperman sighed and put his face in his hands.

“
I’m getting the police,” he said. “They’ll call your parents.”

“
We were apprehended by Hyperman!” the girl said with a monstrously ecstatic smile.

“
I was marked!” the first hood said, caressing his own throat.

“
As was I!” the other added, holding up his hand.

The three of them practically squealed with glee.

Hyperman wished he possessed the ability to throw up.

***

Vibrating his appearance back into Cal, Hyperman squished back through the bathroom window and landed perfectly into a steady step toward the door. The man sitting on the toilet in the stall with his pants hiked down went about his business, not even noticing him treading by.

Running a hand through his dry, flaky hair, Cal nervously ambled up to Lindsey. Between abandoning her earlier and those kids, he felt out of sorts and hoped it didn’t show. She sat at a cafe table, one leg crossed over the other with her arms folded in her lap. Her eyebrows furrowed together, and she pursed her lips when she saw him.

“
Took your time, didn’t you?” she asked. “What? Was it business? Couldn’t your clients have called back later? Couldn’t you have told them it was your day off?”

“
No, I’m…I’m sorry,” he stammered. “It was…was bad news.”

She noticed his disheveled state.

“
Oh, Cal, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be such a bitch!”

Immediately, she shot up to hug him. His arms dangled limply around her, but the embrace still felt reassuring and good.

“
Things were going so well and then you just wandered off like that,” she said as he buried his face into the nape of her neck. “I thought I’d weirded you out or something!”

“
No, not…not that,” he meekly replied.

“
What is it?” she asked. “You can tell me.”

He paused. “A few…a few cousins of mine are acting up. They’re in serious trouble with the law. I tried talking to them, but I don’t know if it helped. Or…or if anything can help.”

“
You poor dear.”

Chapter 2: MOURNING

Every night, Nightshadow dreamed of killing him. His hands choked the life out of him or, with a sudden twist, snapped his neck. He dropped him off buildings or pressed his squirming head down underwater. Sometimes, he bashed his fists bloody, turning his pale skull face red. Always, he heard him snickering and laughing, apparently even enjoying his own murder.

“
You’re my forever.”

Nightshadow started awake, gasping and drenched in smelly sweat. His hand clutched at his chest. Next to him, Piper lay naked, passed out face-first onto a pillow from too much wine, Vicodin, and sex. Her amber-brown hair spilled down over the freckled, cream-white skin of her back. She eerily resembled a dead body and Nightshadow even checked to see if she was still breathing.

He studied her for a moment, wondering if she could be one of the Death Reaper’s children. At twenty-three years old, Piper fit right into the ideal age range. Here she was in his bed, too, and properly positioned to do a large amount of damage to his life. He’d have to investigate her background again and clear her of any suspicion. She probably wasn’t part of some super-criminal plot, but he had to make sure.

Stale darkness swarmed throughout the penthouse suite, but dawn blue traced across a black sky outside the windows. He stretched and heard his joints crack. Feeling old and stiff, he slid out of bed. The cool air pricked at his tough, leathery skin as he stalked barefoot into the bathroom. He flicked the switch and bright, bursting light filled the room, hurting his eyes. When they adjusted, he regarded himself in the mirror.

Scars, burn marks, and bruises marred his body. Veins throbbed and wrinkles scattered across his face. His dark hair had turned brittle and flat. Gray showed at his temples and had spread across the sides of his head.

“
You look like a beat up, forty-two-year-old piece of meat,” he muttered.

While he resembled a boxer who had gone for far too many rounds, he had convinced most of the world that Mark Risen was simply a rich, determined businessman who worked and played hard and not an aging vigilante. His real estate company dominated the competition, and he used many of the proceeds to invest in the city’s school and transit systems. He also hosted fundraisers and gave to charities. As Mark Risen, he had earned the city’s respect.

Of course, he couldn’t allow anyone to guess that he might have a double life. So he hit all the clubs on a regular basis, making sure he was seen, and dated all the youngest, most famous actresses and models. He always had a different one on his arm. His exploits fueled the gossip mags, just as his business ventures tended to headline the news. Nobody would think he was a vigilante. They’d have no idea how he found the time, nor would they think he was fit for it. The media had bought a severe (faked) car accident as explanations for his mutilated mess of a body. He had also planted stories claiming that the poor little rich boy hadn’t properly recovered and still experienced dizziness, the shakes, and panic attacks. In fact, according to rumor, he depended on many different medications just to get by. Without them, he was a wreck.

Bearing all that in mind, most people would laugh at the notion of him as a vigilante. They just wouldn’t be able to process the idea. They would think a superhero lifestyle and all the near impossible feats it required was far beyond him. They had no idea what kind of shape he was really in.

He had a grisly fighter’s ripped physique. Lean, impressively hard, well-defined muscle packed against his bones. He trained constantly and obsessively, always honing himself into a sharper, deadlier blade of a man. However, time was taking its toll on him and he couldn’t ignore that fact. He felt sorer and tighter every year. He wasn’t as fast as he once was and his injuries had piled up. It hurt some days just to get out of bed. However, as always, he ignored the pain and went about his business, not letting anything stop or deter him.

After glancing through his medicine cabinet, he shook out a fistful of vitamins. He tossed the whole lot of them into his mouth, turned the tap on, and sucked up a mouthful of water to wash it all down. Seeing Piper had left a few bottles of her pills, he sighed. Early on in his career, he’d taken painkillers, but disliked how they affected his state of mind. He needed to think clearly and not have his conclusions clouded by artificial joy. So he’d adopted a handful of meditative and mental exercises to better help him cope with pain.

He’d warned Piper not to leave her Vicodin, Adderall, Ambien, or whatever other shit here. He didn’t even let her leave any clothes or personal effects. She only spent the occasional night. He didn’t want her thinking she could crash here whenever she wanted and make herself at home. Then she might go through his things or meddle in his affairs. Worse, she might become too attached to him. To teach her a lesson, he flushed all her pills down the toilet.

He stepped into the shower. The hot water steamed and scalded down upon him, massaging and soothing his worn, aching muscles. After hopping out, he draped a towel around himself and shuffled across the spacious, airy suite. Cold droplets of water broke and streaked across his back. In his spare bedroom, he put on a trim, custom-fit blackish-gray suit and slicked his wet hair back.

He vanished into the walk-in closet and pulled out the hidden compartment in the back wall. Once he’d typed in the appropriate codes and had his eyes scanned, the floor opened up and he climbed the ladder down into his lair. There he checked the wing-suits, weaponry, and computers. Everything appeared in working order, so he mounted back up into the suite and the lair auto-locked itself behind him. After grabbing a wallet and phone, he wandered back into the guest bedroom. He gazed down upon Piper with his hands linking together behind his back.

Almost all of last night he’d been out, stopping muggers, drug dealers, and thieves. With the night creeping toward dawn, he finally got Piper’s voice message. Drunk and barely coherent, she’d begged him to meet her at Sway, her favorite trashy nightclub, before it closed.