Rebirth of the Gods
By Jacob M. Drake
Published by Crescent Suns eBooks on Smashwords
Copyright Jacob M. Drake 2008
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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****EDITOR'S NOTE****
Please remember that this is a work of ADULT FICTION. If scenes of an adult nature (graphic sex or violence) upset you in any way OR if you are not at least eighteen (18) years of age, please read no further. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to upset or offend anyone.
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FORWARD
As anyone and everyone knows who has ever read my other books - I like superheroes. Or more correctly I suppose I should say I like people - or beings - with POWER. That's why I watch all the movies that come out about superheroes and TV shows such as Heroes and Smallville, even though neither of those two ever goes far enough for my taste into what I actually think would happen in a world where such beings actually existed. Certainly we all know what a wimp the WB has turned Clark into, right? This is why I have created my own little multiverse wherein beings with powers, be they called Mega-humans, Mutants, Powers, Supers, or perhaps even Gods. In one manner or another, in one manifestation or another, these beings exist. The question is: in any particular realm of my multiverse are these beings heroes or villains? Most often they are heroes. In this particular book, the longest one I've written to date, the main character at least is a villain. Or is he?
Ride along with me into this new realm of the Rebirth of the Gods, wherein a lone individual crosses from one dimension where he is a villain to another where he ends up a god. If that were to happen to you, I have to ask...would your personality go through any type of alteration? Especially if you found you had more actual powers and Power than you ever held within your body before. Exactly what would you do with that Power? How would your life change? How would you present yourself to this world?
Herein lies the crux of the matter for this particular individual who sees himself as the greatest super-villain the world has ever known...
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CHAPTER ONE
Early morning in New York City can be an eye-opening experience for most people not used to the fast-living pace of the regular inhabitants of this thriving metropolis that exists on the eastern seaboard of the United States of America.
Were visitors to this city privy to the occasional occurrences within one of the tallest buildings located here, they would be even more amazed. The Corner Building, so-named due to its location on the corner of 12th Avenue and Battery Place, exists in a spot where at one time a twenty-story building stood in this location of prime New York real estate. Now a newly-renovated forty-story building stands overlooking Battery Park, staring down upon the Castle Clinton National Monument.
Inside the Corner Building, on the top floor, where only those with the proper access are able to enter within the single room which occupies a large percentage of space on this floor, a meeting was convened only moments ago. Those taking place in this meeting are among the most notably different and powerful people on this planet, being as these are the members of the group known only as The Protectorate, a group of beings innately possessing abilities from birth that have enabled them to display characteristics definitely not in the normal class of humanity’s traits. These beings of such great power have taken on the self-appointed role as the protectors of the planet Earth and its population.
One might wonder why Earth has need of such powerful beings for its protection. Is the combined military of the world governments not enough to ward off any force which might attack the civilizations on this planet?
Are the local police forces, the FBI, the CIA, National Security Agency and so many others not enough to track down and bring to justice those who seek to do harm to the American way of life or any other social or cultural way of life in any of the many countries, nations and lands which coexist upon this planet without the aid of beings of special powers?
One might believe this to be true. One would be wrong.
Nature has not been one to play favorites when doling out the unique abilities which provide these heroes the power for carrying out their duties. Others upon this planet have also become endowed with equally unique and powerful abilities as those of The Protectorate, only some of these others have chosen not to use their powers for such altruistic endeavors as the heroes now coming together for their bi-monthly meeting on the top floor of The Corner Building.
Today there are eight of The Protectorate’s members in attendance, though its full contingent is comprised of twelve heroes. Presumably these other four are otherwise engaged within their chosen roles as heroes, or else they would not miss this regularly scheduled meeting.
“All right everyone, let’s get this meeting under way so we can all get back to whatever pressing business we have in our other lives.” The slender, though leanly muscular and beautiful woman known to her Protectorate comrades as Songbird is the current leader of this team, being as how they all agreed at the onset of this organization that the leadership role would rotate amongst them in an orderly manner each year so that no one individual would be seen as too controlling.
Songbird stood at the head of the long, conference table comprised of solid oak with a smooth veneer that caused it to gleam from the sunlight entering in through the various windows lining the south wall. Though the windows have no blinds or shades covering them, allowing those within this room to see out over the section of their city facing the park and water, no one is able to see in from the outside, due to a special coating applied over the windows’ exterior. This allows a beautiful view of Battery Park and the water beyond it, where also the Statue of Liberty can be seen on clear days, without concern over anyone snooping in on these most private of meetings.
Not that anyone outside of this group of heroes has knowledge of the meetings taking place every other week within this notable building. Were anyone else to have knowledge of these meetings and be aware of exactly when The Protectorate meets here, however, the security systems within this structure would certainly be more than enough to prevent anyone from gaining entrance.
At least, those comprising The Protectorate have become used to believing their security systems to be enough for their own protection and secrecy. Not one of these present is aware that outside this building at this very moment, standing on the street level at the corner, three individuals have come together in their own covert meeting. These three are among those mentioned earlier who have chosen not to use their abilities for the good of mankind.
“You have the plan in mind?” one of the three, Morgan Sanders, a.k.a., Power Surge, asks of another. The one queried nods his head briefly, indicating he does indeed have the plan they previously discussed firmly within his mind.
It is necessary for this one queried to be confident of this plan, since the execution of this plan rests squarely upon his shoulders at the moment.
“Ok, then,” the first, obviously the leader of this threesome, confirms, “Let’s get this done and we’ll be on our way to becoming the most powerful beings on this planet, got it?”
The other two of the trio merely grin. They know the plan well and are itching to get it accomplished in order to become what their leader has stated.
The leader of the group reached out and placed a hand upon a shoulder of each of the others. The one who was queried previously closed his eyes and concentrated. A few seconds passed before a shimmering effect began to emerge from this one’s body, then, as if in response to this display of energy, the leader’s body also began to emit an aura that surrounded his own form, though one that was different in appearance than the others.
Almost instantly the trio vanished, leaving those citizens of New York City busily engaged in their natural routine of heading to work this early in the morning, astonished by first the appearance of this energy, then the subsequent disappearance of these three men. They know those with Powers have been in their midst and each of them begins wondering which of the Powers, as all New Yorkers have come to think of those with these unique abilities, these three were. Some of the more astute among the onlookers are wondering, were these heroes or villains?
“...so the Bio-Tech robbery remains a mystery at this time,” GraviTron, the strongest member of this team was completing his update on the crimes concerning powered villains he has been involved in trying to solve. “The energy pattern present didn’t exactly fit anything in our database, though it did have characteristics matching both Power Surge and Transport,” the massively muscular male reclining sideways in his chair concluded his report with those words.
“Maybe those two have teamed up for some robberies,” volunteered Eagle, the only hero present whose ability is dependent upon the appendages that have grown upon the outside of his back, forming large wings that resemble those of the bald eagle in their coloration, hence his hero moniker.
“If that’s the case,” Songbird nodded her ascent to the suggestion, “we may be in for some serious problems. Power Surge has been a pain in our collective asses for far too long. His ability alone has kept many of us from capturing him, regardless of the circumstances. If he’s teamed up with Transport…”
A sudden outburst of radiance within the confined space of this conference room served to both startle and alarm those present. They know their security is the best in the world. They know no one should be able to penetrate their headquarters, regardless of the abilities possessed by any would-be intruder.
How then can anyone possibly have circumvented their security?
“There’s no 'if' about it, sweetheart,” the dulcet tones of Power Surge echo throughout the large, but confined room as the radiance subsided, revealing not only Power Surge and Transport standing before the collective heroes, but also Mimic, a villain with the ability to copy within herself the abilities of others, although only one power at a time and only while in close proximity to that person.
Seeing their covert HQ’s security breached, the eight heroes present begin to respond to the imminent threat, each in his or her own unique manner, but once more a radiant aura quickly spread out through the room, engulfing each and every person present, leaving only the possessor of the talent which has immobilized all others free to move about. Those heroes surrounding this large conference table slump in their posture, as though suddenly lacking in energy.
This is the ability of Power Surge, to either elevate the power level of whatever he focuses his attention upon, or as in this case, to completely drain the power or energy from those same objects of his attention.
Power Surge chuckled openly as he sauntered about the room in such a cocky manner that had they been in control of their own bodies, several of the heroes present would have utilized their abilities in a manner decidedly not conducive to their accepted code of ethics as The Protectorate.
They are not, however, in control of either their bodies or their minds. Were they, at least one of the immobilized heroes would have been capable of foiling Power Surge’s insidious scheme by sheer brain-power alone.
“Ah,” Power Surge turns toward Mesmer, the dominant telepath of the team, whose ability allows him to read minds as well as control the actions of others, up to six people at a time. The villain has felt a prickling within his mind and knows this hero, who has a greater grasp on his mental faculties than any other being on the planet, is yet attempting to overcome the villain-of-the-moment.
Power Surge walked around the table and stood with his hands placed upon the shoulders of this strong telepath.
“Do you really want me to intensify my power to make it strong enough to completely subdue you, Mesmer? You know that if I do, since my power is not as selective as your own, it would mean the increased force upon your compatriots would become so great that most likely at least a few of them would die under it.”
As if in demonstration the aura within the room intensified. The eyelids of most of the heroes present began to droop, their forms, frozen in-place already from the villain’s surprise attack, began to slump within the chair each one was seated in.
Mesmer knew too well that if Power Surge continued this line of attack, these others would die under this heavy an assault. He couldn’t allow that to happen, even if it meant allowing this enemy of all mankind to currently continue on with whatever plan he had developed in his limited brain.
Instantly the mental prying within Power Surge’s brain ceased. He smiled in a gloating manner, turning his attention back to everyone concerned.
“My friends,” the megalomaniac spread his arms up and out, as though embracing everyone in the room. “Welcome to the greatest and most magnificent feat you will ever live to see accomplished. I, Power Surge, the most criminally inclined among your adversaries, have conceived a plan which will enable me to not only mimic the abilities of each and every one of you, as my current partner Mimic is able to do, but will completely copy over into my being the powers of all present here in this room.”
The gloating villain continued his slow stride throughout the room, attaching to the temples of each hero still seated at their chairs a simple device that affixed itself to their heads, piercing through the thin skin covering each skull so that although none of the heroes was able to respond to the pain, a sharp prick of energy shot through the hard bone of their skulls, rooting itself within the central portion of each one’s cerebral cortex.
As he completed affixing his devices to the heroes, Power Surge then moved over to where his two partners-in-crime stood as lifeless statues along with the others. His grin spread from ear-to-ear, the self-styled master villain placed similar devices upon the heads of his supposed partners, and then turned to confront his immobile audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke with a voice far louder than necessary in this confined space, “allow me to introduce each of you to a beautiful new development in psychotherapy. This dandy little device has been developed by scientists in concert with psychiatrists and brain surgeons in order to locate problem areas within the human psyche and hopefully allow those brains inflicted with great bouts of depression, sociopathy,” he paused at this word to scan the room, wondering how many of his unwilling attendees were applying this label to him at this moment, “and many other psychological, physical and/or chemically-induced disorders which reside within the human brain to become more easily treatable.
“This simple device will allow doctors intimate entrance within the human psyche, allowing them to alter or influence those who are under their control.
“What none of these professional practitioners of modern medicine realized, however, is that a particular application of this device that only someone with my mental acuity could possibly delineate is to allow entrance to that particular portion of the brain which houses and controls the powers of individuals such as those of us present here.”
He paused momentarily, allowing the importance of his words to sink in. He wanted those he controlled to be completely aware of what he was about to do to and with each one of them, allowing them to understand that with all their abilities, they were completely powerless to stop one outstanding individual, himself, from raping their minds and therefore that part of their brains which was home to the repository of their unique powers and endowing himself with each one of their abilities.
“I would have hoped to have the full compliment of Protectorates present on such a momentous occasion as this,” he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, continuing to move about the room behind those he had enthralled. “However, I suppose my soon-to-be power-base will have to be limited to those currently present,” he paused, coming back around so that he stood between his two former accomplices.
“Fortunately my power-base will also include the teleportational abilities of my friend Transport, here, who has so graciously provided the entrance to this otherwise impenetrable fortress of heroes.”
Power Surge placed a device similar, though only slightly different from those now securely attached to the temples of the other ten people present, upon his own head. His eyelids fluttered momentarily as the probes reached through his skin and skull, attaching themselves within his brain matter.
“Ah, now that was a jolt I had not expected. A pity you did not expect it, either, Mesmer,” he turned his attention momentarily to the telepath in question. “Had you known what I was about to do and how it would affect me, you might have been able to seize upon that brief instant and take control of my mind.
“Pity for you that it was a surprise to all of us, eh?” Power Surge grinned more broadly at his own taunt. He so enjoyed having complete control over such powerful enemies.
“Now, if you are all ready?” he taunted once more, even as his own brain quickly activated the circuits joining him to all the others in a psychic link enhanced by his own power of either draining or enhancing any power he chose, even be it a person’s very own life force.
Once more, had those present been aware of what was about to take place, they might have found a way to thwart Power Surge’s plans, since, at the moment he altered his own ability in order to power the circuits through Mimic and into the brains of the others, the control he held over everyone lapsed momentarily. Each person present could have exerted his own control once more and possibly acted to subdue him, especially Mesmer, who had been the only one not completely under his control to begin with.
As it was, not one of those present seized upon their singular opportunity, which lasted but the briefest of moments before the connected apparatuses dug deeply within each of the Powers, both hero and villain alike, triggering that portion of their brain functions, located distinctly within the cerebral cortex of the human brain, which produced the ability in each.
To a person, each of the ten reeled backwards from the mental assault, their necks nearly snapping from the forced contraction of their neural systems.
For long minutes Power Surge himself stood immobile, the surge of abilities entering his own brain almost too much for one man to handle. He knew there was a distinct possibility that this process, untested as it was, could result in permanently damaging his own brain from the influx of power. It was a risk he was willing to endure in order to fulfill his greatest dream in becoming the most powerful being in this entire world.
After long minutes that came close to a full quarter-hour, the process completed. All those seated around the table fell face-first forward, their heads striking the hard wood table top with eight resounding thuds. The two “accomplices” of Power Surge, still standing immobile near the entry door, fell as heaps to the floor.
Power Surge himself stood immobile for several more minutes after the process ended, his brain holding his body upright, each muscle contracted and rigid. Finally, the villain who had just pulled off the greatest and most heinous coup in super-villain history, slumped, his muscles having relaxed all at the same moment. Yet was he able to remain standing, however, his brain exerting just enough control to keep him from joining his former accomplices on the floor.
“Damn!” Power Surge exhaled the word, more than actually spoke it, and then shook his head vigorously. His head was reeling with the influx of power. At least he was still alive and functioning properly. As far as he could yet ascertain.
Straightening his body to its full height, the villain held his arms out to his sides and in front of himself, flexing the fingers on each hand, ensuring that his body was still under his mental control and responding properly.
“All right. That’s good,” he muttered the words, even as he lifted each leg separately, bending them at the knees, then rotating his ankles before setting each foot back to the floor.
“Body seems functional. What about the powers?”
Taking a deep breath, the consummate villain glanced at Mesmer, the hero’s head yet resting unconsciously upon the table. A grin spread across his lips as he concentrated on the fallen hero who alone had attempted to resist his plan.
Though yet unconscious, Mesmer lifted his head, and then his body stood from the chair, knocking it over in the clumsy method of a puppet being maneuvered by an immature puppeteer, since the hero at the table whose power had been used in this test case was known as the Puppeteer, being able to control one person's actions at a time, having full control over that person.
As though he actually were a puppet, the hero’s arms lifted up in front of him in a stiff fashion. His legs then began “dancing” about, mimicking the movements of a marionette on a stage.
For several minutes the villain enjoyed this control of his defeated foe before tiring of the game. He released his control of Mesmer, who slumped as unceremoniously to the floor as had Transport and Mimic.
Power Surge’s lips twisted into an evil sneer as his focus turned to the lovely Songbird; her slender, lightly muscular and completely feminine form slumped across the table top.
Concentrating in an easier fashion than with Mesmer, Power Surge lifted the unconscious heroine from the table and had her step up on top of the oak top. Moving her body more easily now that he was gaining control of this purloined ability, the villain had the heroine perform a striptease to unheard music that her body contorted to even as she peeled her clothes off one item at a time. Soon the heroine was as naked as the day she was born. Power Surge feasted his eyes upon her lusciously hot body, drinking in every curve and nuance of her delectable flesh.
As he was enjoying this view, however, the door to the conference room opened outward. Standing on the outside in the vestibule were two of the until-then missing members of The Protectorate.
Sonic and Queen Bee stood staring at the unlikely tableau before them as Power Surge did at the unexpected arrivals. As the heroes’ eyes scanned the room and finally came to rest upon the only conscious person within their conference room, the villain utilized his own naturally-birthed ability, spreading out his unseen cloak of energy drain matter in order to cause the two late comers to fall as unconscious as their teammates.
Unfortunately, the villain had not counted on the effect his having absorbed so many new abilities would have upon his own power.
Rather than suck the energy from Queen Bee and Sonic, the energy released from Power Surge resulted in an explosion of ball lightning that blew the heroes backwards where they slammed against the far wall of the vestibule.
Surprised at the power that had surged out from him, but not caring how he defeated these two foes, Power Surge decided the best thing he could do at this moment was to extract himself from the presence of his enemies. After all, those two late-comers may well have alerted the final two missing members of this team. He had no desire to combat enemies using untested abilities, even though so far it had all worked out to his best interest.
Seeing the window nearest himself as his best option, Power Surge threw himself bodily against the glass pane. Unfortunately for him, the pane, like all the others in this building, was composed of a highly impact-resistant material. All Power Surge managed to do was to bruise his shoulder and upper back.
Reeling from the impact, the villain noticed the heroes in the vestibule shaking the fog from their heads in preparation for an assault upon him. He needed something to extricate him from this room, but what?
The as yet unconscious GraviTron entered his field of view. Greater strength. Perhaps that was what he needed in order to escape this unfortunate trap he had placed himself within.
Focusing his mind upon the latent power of GraviTron within him, Power Surge felt his body drawing upon the very gravity of the planet in order to build his strength beyond anything he had ever wielded within himself. As the power grew and doubled, then redoubled, all within mere seconds, he noticed the floor beneath his feet beginning to buckle under the added density. He knew he had to escape immediately or find himself falling through the floor. Power Surge concentrated and decided to test his new ability by slamming both fists against the window pane.
With great joy the villain found his fists pushing through to the outside of the now useless window, the extra-strong pane shattering under his impact, sending splinters cascading down upon those walking on the sidewalk outside this building. He then threw himself out past the jagged edges of the transparent material held within the frame, but had failed to take into account the fact that he was now falling from a distance of forty floors above ground level with a far greater density than he had ever experienced in himself.
Eagle’s power allowed him to fly, but that was because he had two enormous wings sprouting from his back muscles. Power Surge hadn’t as yet experienced the outgrowth of such appendages, so flying was out of the question.
Teleportation wasn’t, however. Transport could teleport. Why not himself?
Concentrating upon the pilfered ability from his unsuspecting former-ally, the falling villain envisioned himself being on a beach in Miami, Florida. The concentration seemed to take longer than he had hoped, seeing the sidewalk beneath him plummeting toward him at an accelerated rate. Several times during the too-rapid descent he experienced a slight buzzing sound inside his head, accompanied with some disorientation, as though the power was trying to kick in, but having problems making the connection in this new body it was in.
Finally, as he feared he was about to end this experiment all-too-soon, the villain’s body popped out of existence, sucking in a great volume of onrushing air, pulling it in along with his vanishing form.
A brief moment later Power Surge found himself rematerializing on the very Miami Beach he had envisioned. What he hadn’t expected, however, was that he would arrive with the same velocity propelling him as when he had left New York.
Even as his body took on solid form, the momentum he had been plummeting downward with caught up with him, slamming him into the packed sand at his feet. Hard. Were it not for the fact that his body yet retained the extra strength, invulnerability and stamina supplied from GraviTron’s ability, this villain’s hopes of world domination might have ended at that moment.
Within a split second of burying his face in the sand, the great volume of air that had vanished along with him in New York materialized, adding to his disfavor by pummeling his body even further, causing the distraught villain to roll head-long across the beach, his out-of-control body flailing about, striking various people walking and lying about this until then peaceful stretch of sand.
The winds finally subsided, leaving the exhausted and pummeled villain strewn across the sand as though he were merely litter that had been blown there after being unceremoniously tossed away.
Those unfortunate beach-goers he had tumbled into in his wild ride across the sand glared menacingly at this interloper who had dared to invade their peaceful day of relaxation in the sun. Many of them suffered broken appendages and lacerations across various portions of their bodies from being struck so suddenly and forcefully by a being of such great strength and density.
Gaining his senses about him, Power Surge sneered at those who glared at him with such ire. How dare these mere humans even consider themselves as better than he?
Utilizing the power of the hero Discharge, Power Surge held out one had before him, feeling the energy of the static electricity within the very air as it absorbed itself within the grasp of his now clenched hand. He could virtually see the electricity as it sat within his grasp, waiting to be utilized.
Not wanting to disappoint either the electricity or himself, Power Surge flung this held power outwards, releasing the electricity as a huge ball of crackling energy that expanded outward, engulfing all those misfortunate enough to be within its range.
The nearby hospital would soon find its emergency room filled with those who had been severely injured by unexplainable burns caused by lightning.
Power Surge stood now to his feet and brushed the particles of sand from his dark garments. Standing upon this stretch of beach that was now nearly deserted, those previously enjoying their day off having long since scattered after witnessing what this mysterious stranger in their midst was capable off, Power Surge held his arms out to his sides, his palms facing upwards with slightly clenched fingers. He thundered his voice to the heavens, defying anyone inhabiting such to ignore his epithet.
“I am a god among men! No one on this planet can equal my power!”
The exhilaration received from uttering such blasphemous words was more than the villain’s mind could handle. His eyes gleamed with a sparkling that had never been there before. True megalomania infested his mind, causing him to think of himself in a manner never before considered.
“I am God!” he spat the phrase mockingly heavenward, not caring what others might think of his words, nor God, either, for that matter.
A shimmering of the air not fifty feet beyond this self-styled “deity” caught his attention. He knew too well what that shimmering meant. The heroes in New York had revived and had tracked him here to Miami.
Let them come. None of them were as powerful as he now was.
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CHAPTER TWO
All about the nearly empty beach located on the edge of Miami, Florida, a shimmering of air gave birth to ten beings whose collective bodies wielded the greatest array of power on the planet.
That statement was soon to be contested by the solitary individual these heroes had traveled to Florida in search of.
Standing with his arms yet upraised, the newly empowered Power Surge, having usurped the abilities of eight of these heroes, as well as his two former allies, quickly assessed those who formed a semi-ring about him as their bodies assumed corporeal form upon the beach. His malevolent grin revealed the fact that he was about to unleash his newly ill-gained power upon those to whom these powers rightfully belonged.
Perhaps he was as yet untested with his abilities, Power Surge surmised, but each of these facing him now were surely still foggy in the brain from the draining process he had leveled upon them so short a time previous.
Lightly humored, Power Surge noticed the ire within the otherwise beautiful features of Songbird, who, no doubt, had been quite mortified when she had come to her senses only to discover she was naked before her comrades.
The villain chuckled mirthfully, enjoying the replay within his memory of the gorgeously nude flesh he had beheld so recently. Perhaps when he finished defeating these so-called heroes, he would resume his rape of this most luscious of all those before him.
For now, he would be content merely to utilize these beings’ own powers in defeating them in so ignominiously a manner.
Mere split-seconds had passed since the assemblage of heroes had materialized upon this beach, now a battlefront for powered beings.
Power Surge struck first, drawing “first blood”, so-to-speak, utilizing his own ability of energy draining. As his own innate ability spread outward, his face revealed the shock he experienced at not seeing any result as he had expected.
Of course. His foes were too far away to be effected by his power. It had a limitation of twenty-five feet maximum. They were at least double that.
This was why he most often preferred using his power within an enclosed space. It was far more effective that way. Here, in the open, his ability spread itself too thin, diffusing itself as it spread outward.
Mentally he detected Mesmer beginning to invade his mind. Instantly the villain erected a psychic-block against the hero, but at the same time several of the others facing him down chose that moment to act, knowing the added assault would distract their enemy, allowing them to more easily defeat him.
Never. Not in this lifetime or any other would Power Surge – the greatest of Powers on this Earth – allow himself to be defeated by lesser beings – mere mortals to his godhood.
Utilizing both the power of Mesmer and his own ability to surge any type of power, the villain blended the abilities together, effectively multiplying the stolen psychic power, thrusting it outward toward his accumulated foes.
Nine of the ten swooned, Mesmer alone being ready for a psychic assault. This one would be the biggest threat to his plans and had to be the first to be eliminated.
Choosing from his new repertoire of abilities, Power Surge elected to blend GraviTron’s power of drawing upon the Earth’s gravity for increasing his own strength along with Power Surge’s own ability, hoping for a blended power of his own design.
As the villain focused his newly-blended ability at Mesmer, the hero instantly experienced a heaviness of his physical being he had never encountered before. His eyelids drooped; his very musculature sagged beneath the assault. Mesmer’s mental attack lapsed under the affliction, freeing Power Surge to focus upon the others before him as well.
Wait. Would attacking these upstarts be within his best interest? Would it not be better for him to implement his ultimate plan, leaving these foes in utter shock at discovering themselves defeated by the mere fact that their ultimate enemy no longer existed upon this planet?
An evil grin spread across his features as his head made the barest of nods.
Yes. That was the best way to handle this situation. Hadn’t it been said, “Retreat is the better part of valor”?
Only his actions wouldn’t merely be retreat, but transference – to another entire dimension altogether.
Summoning upon the enjoined abilities of Transport, Dissembler, Time Warp and his own power surge ability, the villain concentrated upon transferring his entire being across the dimensional barrier he hoped truly existed, separating this world from another exactly like it.
Though such thought was merely the stuff of hypothesis, Power Surge hoped-beyond-hope that it was reality as well. No one had as yet proven the existence of parallel universes, but his own in-depth studies had at least given him the insane hope that such parallel worlds did indeed exist and that by blending certain powers he himself would be capable of bridging such a barrier.
If he failed, he had surmised the attempt would destroy his entire being. He cared not at all. He would rather live as the sole Power within a world populated by mere mortals than continue as simply one of many upon this planet where he constantly needed to prove himself better than all others.
The abilities gathered about and within him. Outside of his being the very air itself swirled in chaotic outrage that anyone would dare to flaunt the decision of Nature, which itself had decreed no one being on this planet would ever wield more than a single Power.
An electrical storm added to the chaotic confusion and the clear sky above this Miami beachfront altered quickly to that of the blackest of storms ever witnessed, though this region had been assaulted by many violent storms.
Seconds passed into minutes while the powers and storm gathered both inside and outside of this solitary figure, his arms held rigid in musculature contraction, as though a statue had been erected upon the sand.
The storm became so fierce that even those heroes dedicated to overcoming such villains who committed crimes-against-society were held at bay, unable to broach the weather that encircled their enemy’s form.
Unaware of why this display of nature congealed itself about this particular villain, the heroes could only observe as the storm barrier held them at such a distance until finally, ultimately, Power Surge himself vanished.
In a barrage of lightning that flashed through the villain’s flesh – in one moment Power Surge stood immobile upon the sand – and then we was not.
In a blinding moment he simply disappeared from sight.
Though the full complement of The Protectorate would search the entire Earth time and again, utilizing every ability and scientific instrument at their disposal for the next few months to come, they would not discover where this villain had vanished to. For all any of them knew, that flash of lightning had resulted in disassembling the very molecules of Power Surge’s body, scattering his atoms to the wind.
* * *
In the vast green forestland situated within the Great Pacific Northwest, in a wide pastoral glade of tall grass and sparse stands of trees of several types, the slight breeze that most often drifted across such a setting of tranquil peace began to build, the gentle currents growing heavier and more violent within mere seconds.
The indigent animal life of this region sensed the oncoming transgression of nature and retreated from this setting as far and quickly as they were capable. Their retreat was wisely instituted, for barely had the glade been vacated than the roiling currents of air exploded outward in a manner both violent and unheralded in this northern clime.
The storm of wind bent and broke most of the trees surrounding this meadow, the vast amount of grass flattening as well under the unexpected force of the explosion, each blade flattening outward from the epicenter of the violent outburst of energy that dispelled the air for miles around.
An electrical discharge of enormous and uncharacteristic proportion to this region joined in with the turbulent winds, the ball-lightning concealing an obscured form within its embrace.
As the electrical energy formed more sure, then expanded outward, the form within grew more substantial, more physical and less ethereal, as it had seemed initially. Then the electricity completed its outward expulsion, dissipating into the atmosphere as it finished that which it was formed for.
With great force the form within hurtled first upwards within the air, then hovered a few seconds before plummeting to the ground far below.
The limp human body struck the ground with such forceful impact it must certainly have broken every bone within its frail form. Only that summation would have neglected to take into account the presence and activation of the increased strength and durability of this being’s vastly expanded power-base.
For long moments the still form of Power Surge lay amidst the flattened blades of grass that had not been sufficient for softening his impact.
Finally, the body began to move incrementally, then more actively as consciousness returned to this intruder from another dimension.
“Unngghhhh,” the unintelligible moan elicited from his parched throat. The displaced villain moved his head as best he was able with such great throbbing in every muscle of his body, especially his neck, which was completely stiff and unbendable from the sudden stop at the end of his steep fall.
With bleary, bloodshot eyes that had definitely seen better days, the villain known on his own version of Earth as Power Surge scanned his surroundings. Slowly he pushed himself to a kneeling position, sitting back on his calves and feet, unwilling to commit himself to further movement until the excruciating agony yet shooting through his bones and muscles decided to lighten at least a little.
“God - what a horrible ordeal that was,” he mumbled to himself, not having anyone else available to complain to. Not that this being would have complained to anyone else other than himself. Was he not a god? If so, then gods did not – could not – complain to anyone. All others were beneath their contempt and therefore not privileged to hear even the grumblings of such beings.
He started to stand, but a bolt of pain suddenly streaked through his brain, sending him to the ground, sprawling across the flattened grass,
His hands flew to his head, grabbing hold and pressing against his skull as though the pressure itself could alleviate the agony that threatened to burst his brain apart. The newly styled “god” found himself rolling back-and-forth upon the ground of this meadow, the pain building to excruciating proportions, causing him to moan, then whine, finally forcing this most powerful of all human beings to scream out loud, his vocal chords reaching the highest pitch they ever had, growing raw from the length of duration of this scream that was as unearthly and inhuman as any sound could possibly be.
So torturous were the sensations that shot throughout his brain that the villain found himself finally clawing at his face, scratching, gouging his flesh, leaving streaks of blood trickling across his features in a horrid attempt to put a halt to that which he could no longer endure.
After a period of time that seemed at least the better part of several hours, the pain abruptly ceased. The suddenness of the cessation produced a dull throbbing that pounded within his skull, but at least that was preferable to what he had been subject to previously.
No longer rolling about the meadow in haphazard movements, the displaced being remained still in one spot, though his breath was panting as rapidly as a dog without water on a too hot day.
As even the throbbing subsided, leaving behind only the residue of what had once threatened to explode within his skull, Power Surge found himself experiencing the peaceful silence of this meadow in a manner he had never before known. All about him was silence, but it was a silence that called out to him, as though the very essence of nature sought to make itself known to this soul, newly transplanted across the dimensional barrier that separated one Earth from another.
As he continued to lie in the meadow, his every sense now passively alert, he found new smells, new sounds, even new tastes wafting their way across the calm currents of air to his very lips, passing onto his tongue as though being served exquisite new flavors of food he had not known existed.
Slowly opening his eyes, the altered senses of this being at first cringed from the brightness of the sunlight entering in through his optical orbs. Slowly he raised the lids which covered his eyes, allowing only minute amounts of light to filter in at a time until his lids were fully open. Looking straight up at the sky, he was surprised to find the weather of this day was greatly overcast. Clouds of gray filled the sky above him, allowing not one scintilla of sunlight to brightly shine past as he had expected to find. If the sky was this overcast, how then could his eyes have received such brilliant sunlight? The anomaly became fully present to him. Was it his own senses that had only made it appear as though the light was so intense? Was what he experienced due simply to a heightening of his senses?
Moving himself to a sitting position, he turned his head, glancing about at the calm meadow, empty of all life other than himself. On the periphery of his senses he could tell there was something else present, but he wasn’t certain what.
Closing his eyes, he utilized solely his hearing, surprised that he was able to pick up such faint sounds so well, and found a multitude of small creatures scurrying about this meadow that was so obviously their home. Having located the cause of the sounds, he then opened his eyes once more and was able to spot the slight moving of the flattened grass which disclosed the whereabouts of the various creatures as they attempted to move stealthily, keeping themselves hidden from this intruder to their domain.
“If I am intruding upon your peace,” Power Surge moved once more to stand to his feet, this time successfully, without a return of the pain that had incapacitated him previously. “I apologize. Allow me to return your privacy of domain. I have more pressing business to attend to on this planet.”
Looking down at his own body now, he flexed his fingers, wondering exactly what powers were now at his disposal.
What he wanted at this moment was to leave this forest region. As beautiful and pleasing as it was, it was not where he wanted to be. His domain was the city. Anyplace with people, since that meant there would also be money. And wealth was what he ultimately lusted after. That and power, but power he now had in abundance, which would serve to appropriate for him as much wealth as he could possibly stand to possess.
Turning his head to look behind himself he could only see the back of the long, black coat he wore over his shirt. Unable to see anything, he slipped the heavy duster from his body and tossed it aside, looking more closely at the shirt, which was tighter across his form. Obviously he had not grown any wings as Eagle had upon his back. Certainly such appendages would be too large for this shirt and would have torn through the thin material.
Or would it? Was there a possibility that the wings folded small enough to allow them to be secreted beneath clothing? Of course. How else could a being like Eagle move about in his daily life, his other identity?
Not bothering to unbutton the shirt, Power Surge grabbed the material and forcefully tore it from his body. Tossing the ragged garment to the ground, he craned his neck further, grabbing hold of his right shoulder with his left hand in order to provide better leverage for looking behind himself.
Yes. There on his back he did indeed have wings growing. Only they were yet too small to afford him the ability of flight. Evidently they were still in the process of growing to their full, mature size. How long would it take before they were large enough for him to use successfully?
Regardless, the wings were unusable at this point. He needed something else to provide him locomotion. Something more than merely his own feet. What other powers did he now have that would accommodate him?
The only other ability that allowed him to move from one place to another was the teleportation ability he had taken from Transport. Yes. That should work perfectly.
In order to teleport he would need to picture a location in his head. His former ally had disclosed this information to him once before, thinking such was certainly safe, since no one but Transport himself could utilize his power.
How wrong that fool had been.
Did he want to return to New York City? Of course. The heroes who had plagued him back on his own world didn’t exist in this world. At least he hoped they didn’t. What if there were powered individuals on this Earth the same as on his own world?
It wouldn’t matter. Even if counterparts to The Protectorate existed here, they certainly had no idea who he was and wouldn’t think to view him as an enemy unless he gave them cause to do so.
Of course, he intended to give everyone on this Earth cause to view him as a villain. The very worst of Villains, in fact, with a capital “V“. That was the sole purpose in duplicating these powers within himself. So he could make use of them in order to amass the wealth that would make him unequivocally the wealthiest person in the entire world.
Yes. New York it was. That was his Mecca. The place where he would begin his plan of world domination.
Picturing The Corner Building itself in his mind, Power Surge closed his eyes and concentrated on moving himself from this place to that.
Nothing happened.
He focused his energy more determinedly, finding his body vibrating slightly with an energy release he had not experienced previously when using this power to escape The Protectorate on his original Earth.
He opened his eyes and glanced about. He was still in this infernal meadow. It was beginning to lose its appeal as a peaceful, wondrous setting.
Perhaps he was too far away from New York and unable to move such a great distance. Yes. That would make sense. Having no idea where he currently resided upon this planet, he also had no idea how far it was to New York. If the teleportation ability was limited to a certain distance, then certainly he would need to make the trip in several smaller, shorter jumps.
He could cope with that. Now, what were his limitations? Wracking his memory he was unable to locate any information Transport might have imparted concerning such a matter.
Damn! That fool had been far too free in imparting anything and everything about his life, droning on and on for hours about absolutely nothing of consequence. Why could he have not mentioned what the limitations were to his power?
Infuriated by the lack of knowledge to effect his movement from this place, Power Surge reacted by amassing a ball of electrical energy within one hand and hurling it toward a stand of trees not fifty feet away. The resultant outburst of energy caused an explosion which splintered the trees, spreading their debris across the meadow, some of it striking the one who had caused the chaos.
“Damn it!” he thundered, unmindful of anyone hearing, since as far as he knew, he was the only human in this area. Without a shirt covering his upper torso, his flesh had become erratically covered with various sized splinters that hurt like hell. It was nothing compared to what he had experienced earlier in his brain, but in a relative manner, it still hurt.
He began plucking the splinters from his flesh, finding the process tedious, each moment that passed causing him to lose even more of his fleeting calmness.
Wait. Why should he pluck these pieces of wood from his body when he might be able to rid himself of all of them at once? Would the ability GraviTron possessed repel these offending toothpicks?
It was a possibility he cared enough to consider.
Concentrating on extracting the very force of gravity from the Earth, he drew inward, his body’s essence growing stronger, more invulnerable with each passing second. All about him, his eyes now closed as he concentrated, he was able to hear the sound of wood snapping. Each one was a tiny, almost inconsequential sound, but it was distinctly that of pieces of wood being broken.
Broken? Was that what he wanted?
His eyes snapping open, Power Surge was horrified to find that indeed, his body had become more resistant to being pierced, but all that meant within the context of the current situation was that instead of repelling the splinters, his hardening flesh had sealed off at the many points where the splinters had punctured his flesh, breaking off the tiny spears where they protruded from him, allowing the portions within his flesh to remain where they resided.
No! This was not acceptable. Once more he hurled a ball of electrical energy across the meadow, though this time striking foliage that was further away. And with the power he had manipulated currently in effect, even the minute amount of debris which reached him from this distance was unable to further penetrate his now toughened form.
Shaking his head in dismay, he relaxed his body, also causing the gravitronic process, as he was coming to think of this power, to lapse back within his body. As his flesh resumed its normally pliant state, the majority of the splinters yet protruding from his flesh released their hold, falling free to the ground.
Well, that was an added benefit he had not expected. Examining his body he discovered, however, that those pieces which had snapped off still were within his flesh, though they at least had moved outward enough to afford him a tiny fragment of each piece with which to grasp hold of in order to extract it with his fingers as he had been doing previously.
Completing this tedious chore and confident he had rid himself of all the offending splinters, Power Surge shook his head, resigning himself to having to walk out of this meadow, this region, like any normal human would.
He snatched up his coat and slung it over one shoulder, viewing the heat of the day, even in such an overcast state as the weather he was in, too stifling for wearing such a heavy garment. He would leave it behind, but he might yet have need of it on this world. At least until he could obtain something better.
* * *
CHAPTER THREE
“Great Mother of all that is, Gaia, Goddess of Creation, enter into your daughters now, fill us with your Being, your Power, your Presence, Noble Gaia, come into us and cleanse us, make us fit to bear your Presence to all the Earth.”
The scene within this glade, this small meadow surrounded on all sides by a perimeter of tall, willowy trees that ringed the area as though Nature herself had intended this place for exactly the type of ritualistic rites as that which was currently underway here, would have been viewed by others not holding to the same view as these four young females, worshippers of Gaia, Mother Earth, the Power and Essence of the planet itself, as being ludicrous, void of intelligence and completely ensconced of nonsense born from the most meaningless of religious beliefs.
These four young women, students enrolled at the nearby state college, were garbed sparingly in nothing more than what Nature provided. Each one had a ring of carefully woven flowers set upon her head, representing the crown, the aura of Gaia herself. Upon each body, which had been stripped of all man-made garments, the sole coverings consisted of a loose garland of similar flowers that circled each neck, hanging down upon the breasts, though not in any manner concealing these freely swinging orbs that had yet to become pendulous with age, a belt that circled each waist just above the hips, also comprised of flowers, though a different variety than that adorning the head and neck, and absolutely nothing else.
Even sandals had been shunned, these females desiring to gain as much contact with their goddess as possible through the tactile sensation of bare feet against earth, grass, rocks, all that comprised the natural setting about them, wherein they performed their ritual to this supposed goddess.