The Secret of the Supers (The First Superhero Book 4)

T
he first time
Athena traveled through time, she didn’t know the Pandora’s Box she was opening. Which was ironic, really, because given her father’s love for Greek mythology, her name was almost Pandora.

It was only for a few seconds. She stood in the marketplace, waiting for the person ahead of her to finish bartering with the baker over the price of bread. She flipped the coins around in her pocket, wishing the man would hurry up. She had enough money. She didn’t have to succumb to bartering—which was “but a step above begging,” according to her father.

Her impatience grew, and she began to consider stepping up to say something, hurrying the man along. But then, before her own eyes, the man was gone. Her heart nearly gave in as her eyes looked into those of the baker, still fixed on the spot where the back of the man’s head had been. She looked over her shoulder, and saw that man walking away empty handed.

“Are you going to buy something, or are you empty in your head?” the baker asked.

Athena regained her composure. She looked up at the high England sun. The heat had to have been messing with her head. She looked back down at the baker, taking a step towards him, her hand already taking the coin out of her pocket.

Everything shifted again, and all of the sudden the man who was bartering just moments before was back in front of her. Time had been rewound, and she bumped into the man, pushing him forward into the baker’s cart, spilling bread and baskets all over the crowded marketplace.

“Hey you filthy wench!” the baker yelled.

The man who’d been bartering didn’t hesitate to take advantage. He scooped up as many loaves of bread as his arms could carry, and took off.

Athena, still confused by what just happened, stood frozen until right before the baker reached out to grab her arm. Athena jerked out of the way, stepping backwards.

“You’re gonna pay for this, you are!” the baker shouted.

Athena didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what was going on. She was terrified out of her mind. The only thing she
did
know, is that there was no way she would be able to pay for all the bread.

So followed the lead of the barter, and turned to run.

“Stop her!” the baker yelled.

People all around the crowded market turned to see what the commotion was all about. It was easy to figure out once they saw that a twenty year old woman was running away from a man shouting in front of his ruined stands.

Hands reached out to grab her, but she dodged them easily. She weaved her way through the people and stands, not looking behind her to see if anyone was giving chase. All she wanted to do was to get home. Back to her house on the hill outside of town. Back to the arms of her husband. Back to the safety within its four walls.

And suddenly, without any commotion, that’s exactly where she was.

She spun around, confused and terrified by the sudden change in location. She had no clue what was happening. What was she? Was she a monster? A witch? Possessed by some demon?

Little did Athena know, she was neither of those things.

She was simply the first Super.

I
floated
hundreds of feet above the ground listening closely for the sound of Samantha’s voice. It’d been three weeks since she disappeared from the woods outside the army base we’d been using as shelter before Raven came and destroyed it, followed by Atlas coming and destroying him. Thinking about those two did nothing to help retreat the increasing sense of helplessness that creeped along the shores of my mind.

The voices in my head were loud and abundant, however none of them came from Samantha. They were all voices of people going about their day holed up in their communities, their eyes constantly glancing up at the sky, waiting for another power-crazed Super to fly down and further destroy life as they knew it. It was hard for me to fathom how fast the world as I knew it was turned upside down. People no longer lived in big cities, the government no longer existed save for the Super Task Force, who had been way too quiet in the past few weeks. I had no idea what they were planning, but I knew it was something. I had no idea what Atlas and the Legion of Richter was planning, but I knew it was something. I had no idea what
I
was planning, but I knew it had to be
something.

I needed to be a step ahead if I stood any chance of winning this war, but no matter what I always seemed to be two steps behind.

Still, right now the only thing I was focused on was Samantha. I had to find her, but the fact that she hadn’t spoken to me tickled at my subconscious. Samantha could speak to both mine and Selena’s mind even when I was all the way in London, so I had enough faith in her that she could speak to me wherever she was. But so far it was radio silence, and that ate away at me. I knew the only reason she wasn’t calling out to me to say where she was—or even just that she was okay—was if she couldn’t. There weren’t many reasons why she wouldn’t be able to, but they were all bad.

I focused hard on listening for her voice, trying to stop my train of thought. But then the question of why crept up in my mind. Why was I listening for her, when if she was calling out for help, she’d just call out to my mind?

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to not answer the question that I’d been asking myself ever since I started listening for her every day. The truth was, I felt helpless. Despite all my incredible powers, this was all I could do. Sit and listen. That was something that was very hard for me to do, even back when I didn’t have powers.

“Go outside and help your brother tend to the garden,” I heard a father say to his son. I lingered on the conversation for a moment.

“But Dad, my fingers are sore from peeling the peas all day yesterday,” his son complained. He sounded like he couldn’t be any older than ten years old.

“And you enjoyed eating those peas, right?” his dad responded in a cool tone, one that you used when you knew you already won the argument.

“Yes,” the kid said, seeing where this was going.

“Well if you want more good things to eat, you need to go outside and help your brother. I’m going to go get some more water from the lake and start purifying it.”

“Okay, Dad,” the kid said, giving up his case.

The interaction brought a smile to my face. It sounded so normal, so much like something my own father would’ve told me back on our farm in Ebon. A sad blanket of nostalgia wrapped itself over me as I thought back to those times. Back when things were simple and I got tired from stacking bales of hay, not destroying buildings and fighting armies of evil Supers.

I was reminded once again another reason why I needed to find Samantha as soon as possible. Without her, I had no contact with my parents. They had been brought in as refugees by the STF from our old camp in Dallas, and while they were being kept safe, they wouldn’t be if somebody found out whose parents they were. The STF would use them somehow to get to me. Despite the fact that I’ve done nothing but try and help, Director Loren and her goons wanted nothing more but to rid the world of all Supers, even ones like me who were just trying to do what they could to help.

“Come on, Samantha,” I said under my breath, my voice sad and weak. “Give me something.”

Nothing.

“Dad!” I heard the young boy from earlier scream, his voice filled with fear. “Da—”

“—Shut the hell up,” a gruff sounding man yelled, followed by the wet slap of hand to the face.

Instinct took over as I sprung into action.

I flew towards the sound of the altercation as fast as I could, the voices in my head multiplying as more people shouted in fear and confusion.

A few moments later, I landed in the middle of the street of a once-pristine, affluent neighborhood. Now the grass in the front lawns of the houses was overgrown, weeds reaching up into the sky unleashing their full potential. Vines were beginning to reach up at the sides of a few of the houses, grasping at their boarded up windows and bleak looking exteriors.

At the end of the street, gathered up in the center of the cul-de-sac, were a group of two dozen or so people who’d turned these houses into a small community. They were being gathered up into a circle by a group of Supers, their eyes glowing bright and assault rifles slung across their shoulders. None of them had seen me so far, which was good since I didn’t know what I was dealing with yet, and I didn’t want to risk them shooting some of their hostages should things go wrong.

I ran off the road towards the house on my right, cutting my way through the tall grass and hiding up against the side of the home. I assessed the situation, putting together a plan in my mind.

My planning was interrupted as I saw the young boy I’d heard earlier being dragged from his house by the hair on his head. A large muscular Super who wore a short sleeve green shirt and a tactical vest dragged him to the front of the group, his back to me, the pistol in his left hand coming up and resting against the side of the young boys head. “I need two people who don’t want to see me paint this street with this little boy to go with my men through your lovely homes, showing them where all your supplies are located.”

“I’ll go,” a young man said, standing up. His skin was tan and already was beginning to look weathered from spending so much time working in the sun for the past few months.

“Me too,” the young girl next to him said. Her eyes were so blue and fierce I probably didn’t even need my supervision to see them from where I was hiding, a few houses down.

The young man looked at her, shocked. Concern washed over his face as his eyes begged for her to sit back down. She didn’t meet his gaze, she just stared at her captors, ready to do whatever it took to keep her community safe.

“Marshall, David, you take these two and start going through the houses,” the main guy said, waving towards the houses with the pistol he just had against the young boys head.

Two men broke from the back of the group, one of them a scrawny ginger kid whose gun looked as big as him, and another, a muscled up black guy in his mid-twenties. They led the two brave teens off as they began searching through the houses.

So that was two less Supers I had to worry about for the moment. There were still three out there, a hispanic woman on the right with a tattoo of a snake eating itself covering her left arm, and a tall white guy who looked like he could’ve been a professional basketball player in another life. Then, of course, there was their leader, who stood there with his pistol to the young boys whimpering head.

“Hey, let my son go!” a man shouted to the left.

The young boy’s father had returned from getting water, having missed the initial hostage-taking festivities. He charged at the man threatening his son, blind to the fact that they were surrounded by Supers and assault rifles. All he saw was that his son was in danger, so he made a split second decision that would’ve ended his life, had I not been there of course.

The pistol changed its aim from son to father, and the leader fired two shots.