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Authors: Jay Phillips

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BOOK: Kingdom of Heroes
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“Can he hear us?” Another voice asked. This one he didn’t recognize. A male voice, whiny, weak, lawyerish, he automatically didn’t like it.

“Theoretically, no,” the doctor answered. “But 616’s advanced senses make it nearly impossible to say with any kind of certainty.”

“But he is awake?” Yet another voice asked. Another female, this one was not as soft as the doctor’s, light, female, but harder, confident, battle tested.

“Yes, he is,” the doctor answered. “Anthony Barren designed the containment units to hold the prisoners and to keep them in states of semi-awareness. They are never fully awake but never fully asleep.”

“So it’s torture?” the other female voice asked.

“Why do you ask like you hope it’s true?”

“Because I do,” the other female answered. “Torture is what they deserve.”

“That, I guess, is a matter of opinion,” the doctor said in return, the slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. “But yes, you are correct. The prisoners here are in a constant state of torture, simultaneously never rested and never aware. Their existence is hell.”

“Good,” the other female said. “Take him out and bring him to us.”

He heard the sounds of buttons being pushed, electronic devices activating, and then a rush of air encompassed him. And then, there was nothing but darkness.

He opened his eyes for what felt like the first time ever. Lights. Everywhere lights. Voices he could no longer understand surrounded him. Pain flowed throughout his body. He was on his back, staring up at fluorescent lights across the ceiling. There was something in his throat, round, deep, a tube, preventing him from talking, from breathing. He clutched at it, tried to pull it out, but he couldn’t maintain a grip.

Two guards stood beside him, large men, massive men, holding his arms down. The doctor with the brown hair stood over him, staring down into his face.

“It’s okay,” she said softly with the same soft tone he had always appreciated. “This will only hurt for a moment.”

She reached down and ripped the tube out of his mouth.

He wanted to scream; the pain was excruciating, but all he could do was sit up and inhale the deepest breath of his life. And then there was nothing but darkness.

_______________________________________________

 

Prisoner 616 opened his eyes. The room was bright, and the smell of sanitizer filled his senses. He felt paper beneath him. It all reminded him of why he hated doctor offices.

“You awake?” The doctor with the brown hair and kind voice asked. She had apparently been standing beside him the whole time. He lifted his head and looked toward the door; the two guards stood beside it, both staring at him with malicious intent.

“Is he ready yet?” The larger of the two guards asked, a man that 616 could have sworn used to be the super-powered criminal called The Constrictor. Of course, he could have been wrong.

The doctor turned towards the guard. “He will be ready when I say he is ready. No sooner, no later.”

“He has people waiting,” the guard growled, his large nostrils flaring out as he spoke.

“And I could care less,” she said in return. “I have final say on prisoner health in this facility, and you will wait on me to have him ready for his visit. Understood?” The last word came out of her mouth with a slight growl of her own.

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard said with a nod.

She pointed toward the door. “Out. Both of you, stand guard on the outside until I’m finished with him.”

Without a single word of argument, the two large men turned around and walked through the door.

She turned back towards 616. “Now, any arguments out of you?”

“Nope,” he answered, finding out for the first time just how much speaking hurt his damaged throat. “How long was I out?”

“About twenty minutes,” she answered as she poked and prodded the various orifices on his face.

“No,” he said in return. “How long was I in the box?”

She stopped her exam and looked him in the eyes. “About a year.”

“Same government in charge, I assume?”

“Yes.” She went back to examining him.

“And that’s who’s here to see me?”

“How do you know that?”

He smiled as much as he could. “Who else would want to visit a man convicted of treason? The local Ladies Auxiliary?”

“They were disbanded five years ago,” she replied while examining his bare legs.

“Crying shame,” he said, just then realizing he was only dressed in a hospital gown. “I used to love their bake sales.”

“Oh well,” he said as he scooted himself to the edge of the table, slightly pushing her out of the way as he did. “Never let it be said that I kept a couple of government suits waiting. That would just be rude.”

“I’m not done with you.”

He lowered himself to the floor, not exactly sure that his legs would support his full weight. He wobbled for a moment, momentarily reaching out to the table to steady himself, only to find himself feeling solid on his feet after a few seconds. “Who knew standing could be such an adventure?” He said, looking back at the doctor with a grin.

“I said I am not done with your examination,” she said in return, her voice the same growl she had used on the guard.

“Sorry Doc,” he said as he slowly walked towards the door. “But I’ve never been one to put off the inevitable.” He opened the door and stepped out, leaving her shaking her head at him as he walked out of the room.

_______________________________________________

 

 

Journal Entry

[Found on page 78]

Note: The following is a newspaper article published when the government assumed control of the media, forcing papers, television, and movies to conform to The Agent’s point of view and always paint the government in a positive light. Any newspaper that wouldn’t conform was forced underground and, most were eventually hunted down and put out of business by one of The Agent’s many security squads.

Supreme Chancellor Rogers announced today that all news media and entertainment projects, including film and television, would have to be approved in advance of production by the government’s new media council. To begin immediately, media companies and publishers will have to submit written proposals of their work before the project can lawfully begin.

“For too long, television and movies have bombarded our families with violence and sex,” Chancellor Rogers said today in his announcement. “We will no longer allow our children to be subjugated to these perverse images. All movies, television, books, even the nightly news, will have to pass through our rigorous screening process, and any product deemed irresponsible to our family values will be cancelled before any production can begin.”

Along with television and movies, all newspapers, books, and magazines must also pass through the screening process. Any company or individual person caught in the process of producing media without permission will be incarcerated and sent before their local tribunal, where they will be tried for treason and sentenced appropriately.

_______________________________________________

 

The two guards walked on each side of him down the long hallway. The shiny linoleum floor felt cold to his bare feet, and a slight draft wafted against his bare backside. After walking for several minutes, albeit slowly and still painfully, he could see a door a few hundred feet away; the door seemed to open into a small room, and he could see two people, a man and a woman sitting inside.

The larger of the two guards stopped and pointed into the room. “You, in there, now.”

“I’m really happy to see those years of phonic lessons haven’t been wasted on you, big guy,” 616 said with a smirk despite the pain he still felt in his raw throat.

“Fuck you,” the guard growled as he opened the door and pushed the prisoner into the room.

Inside, the two people sat across from him at a table. The first was a man, forty years old or so, too skinny, balding, wearing a suit which screamed, “I’m a lawyer; please take me seriously.” The other person was a woman 616 recognized instantly from the years she spent as a celebrity superhero, not to mention her stint as one of the founding members of The Seven. The white hair, the crystal blue eyes, the stunning good looks were all dead giveaways for the woman known throughout the world as The Ice Queen. 616 looked at her, momentarily enthralled by her looks. Her skin, at least what bit of it he could see, was as white as snow and flawless. Her hair, a sparkling white color that didn’t seem natural, was long and straight, with bangs just above her eyebrows which made the hair seem to frame her face.

“Sit down, Detective,” the lawyer said to the prisoner, calling 616 by a name he hadn’t heard in well over a year, though it felt much longer than that.

616 sat down, staring at the two people sitting across from him. “I’m here. Something you need?”

“Let’s see,” the lawyer began, shuffling a stack of papers in front of him. “Prisoner 616, real name unknown, better known by the moniker, ‘The Detective.’ Caucasian, six feet one, approximately 190 pounds, age approximately thirty-five years old, history unknown, but it is rumored that he was an actual homicide detective when his powers developed; he never registered with the old government, left the country, moving to Canada shortly after the war began. Abilities consist of enhanced senses, including increased hearing, highly accurate olfactory abilities, and advanced levels of taste and touch.”

“You forgot that I have 20/20 eyesight and a pleasant body odor.” The Detective replied.

The lawyer ignored him. “The size of the adrenal gland is also five times the size of a normal, which increases blood flow throughout the body, causing the enhanced senses and a massive increase in strength and speed when under distress. After several examinations, all of the doctors at this facility agree that the increased blood flow will eventually burn out most of your major organs before the age of forty, give or take a year. Actually, Detective, by placing your body in a suspended state, we may have given you an extra year of life.”

“I guess I should say ‘thanks,’” The Detective said, his voice filled with sarcasm. “I mean I should, but I won’t. You understand I’m sure.”

The lawyer continued without a response. “After allegedly helping the Canadian Government resist a super powered rebellion several years before, he was arrested one year ago, assisting in an illegal smuggling operation.”

“I was ‘assisting’ in an operation to liberate human beings from a corrupt dictatorship.”

The Ice Queen pulled herself closer to the table. “What you did,” she said, her voice emitting a sense of cold which made the room feel suddenly air conditioned, “was commit treason by attempting to smuggle normals in an unlawful manner to Canada, a state this country does not recognize.”

“Keep heading north, you can’t miss it,” The Detective said as he looked at the former super heroine. “You might actually like it there, considering your little cold problem and all. Now did you guys come here to play, ‘Hey Detective, this is your fucked up life,’ or did you actually need something from me?”

“We need one thing, Detective,” said another voice from a small speaker sitting on the table, a voice The Detective instantly recognized as belonging to Supreme Chancellor Rogers, Agent America himself. “We need your help.”

The Detective reached up with his right hand and rubbed his forehead. “Not to be rude or anything, but that really just came out of fucking nowhere. I mean seriously, you lot, actually turning to me for help. You know I hate you all, right?”

“Three hours ago, Detective,” the voice from the speaker began, “we found the body of Anthony Barren; his brains had been splattered across his penthouse.”

“The Iron Knight is dead?”

“Yes,” the speaker answered. “And we need your help to find his killer.”

The Detective smiled a grin half out of amusement and the other half from confusion. “Seriously? Me?”

“Your reputation of being possibly the world’s greatest detective is highly respected, and despite your incarceration, we see the value in your obvious skills. Some of my associates have different opinions---” The Ice Queen raised her hand. “But I personally believe this murder is simply the first attack in a much greater plot.”

The Detective nodded. “Most likely.”

“Excuse me?” The Ice Queen interjected.

“Well,” The Detective responded, “if I was going to go through all of the trouble of killing one of you, I might as well go for the other six while I was at it.”

“You see, Ice,” the speaker quickly replied. “That is my point exactly. No one would go through the trouble of just killing one of The Seven. If one of us is a target, we are all a target.”

“And what exactly do I get out of this arrangement?” The Detective asked. “Cause if it’s just that good feeling you get from helping your fellow man, then I’m out now.”

“If you cooperate and the killer is found, Detective,” the voice from the box explained, “you will be granted your freedom.”

The lawyer pushed a piece of paper and a pen in front of The Detective. “The choice is yours: you can sign this agreement and resume your life as The Detective, or you can stay here and continue your imprisonment as Prisoner 616.”

BOOK: Kingdom of Heroes
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