Black Onyx Reloaded - A Superhero Thriller (The Black Onyx Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  BLACK ONYX RELOADED

  A Superhero Thriller by

  VICTOR METHOS

  1

  Gunfire exploded as Ramon jumped over the counter and stuck his shotgun in the teller’s face. “The vault, puto! Now!”

  His three partners spread out around the bank lobby. One customer had been hit and lay on the floor in a pool of blood. The security guard was unconscious, crumpled beside the door. That left three cashiers, the manager, and the two remaining customers.

  “Open it!” Ramon yelled.

  Tears ran down her face. “I-I can’t. Only the m-m-manager can open it.”

  He threw her into a chair. Lifting his shotgun, he pointed it at the manager, who had his hands behind his head, trembling. “Open it!”

  The man nodded and pulled a set of keys from his pocket as he walked over to the safe. He input a code on the keypad and inserted a key. The red light on the keypad turned green, and the vault door clicked open. Inside, stacked in neat little piles, was more cash than Ramon had ever seen in his life.

  “What you got, ese?” Jorge shouted.

  “This is it, yo.” Ramon motioned for his other two partners to enter the vault.

  Carlos and Esteban rushed in, pulled out garbage bags, and began filling them with bundles of cash.

  Ramon pressed the shotgun to the manager’s head. “No witnesses, yo.”

  Something crashed onto the building so hard that bits of ceiling fell, speckling the floor. Ramon heard what sounded like footsteps across the roof, but they were too heavy to belong to a man.

  “What was that, Ramon?” Jorge asked.

  “No lo se.”

  “Go see.”

  Ramon shoved the manager against the wall and walked to the window. San Francisco was lit up, but the street right outside the bank was empty. He was about to turn away when he spotted a light across the street.

  The light grew brighter, blinding him. Then something smashed through the window so quickly that Ramon didn’t even have time to scream. He was flung into the air. He thumped into the ceiling and stared at the floor thirty feet below as he fell. He slammed back down so hard that he heard the bones in his arms break.

  “Puta madre!”

  Carlos and Esteban ran out of the vault, jerking their guns up as they spun in every direction.

  “What was that, holmes?” Carlos asked.

  A soft humming sound came from across the bank. Ramon struggled to look in that direction. A man-shaped thing appeared. It was seven or eight feet tall, dressed in black, with eyes that gleamed a bright blue.

  “You know,” the thing said, its voice metallic and loud, “I’m all for robbing the people that rob you, but I’m not down with the innocent bystanders. Now why’d you shoot this guy? He didn’t do anything.” The thing drifted over to the fallen customer. Ramon didn’t realize the creature was floating until it landed on the floor with a thump.

  The thing gestured at the customer. “Sir, you have a gunshot wound to the forearm. Did you do anything to deserve that?”

  The man’s mouth dropped open.

  “See? You guys hurt him so badly he can’t even speak.”

  The customer made a choking noise. “Um…”

  “‘Um. That’s all he can say now. Happy?” It shook its head. “If you would have snuck in here, robbed the place, and took off, I wouldn’t have even heard that anything was wrong. But they said shots were fired. So here I am. Now, are you guys going to lie down and wait for the cops, or what?”

  Ramon couldn’t move his arms, so he just nodded to his boys. Jorge opened fire, and the other two followed suit. The rounds ricocheted off the thing’s smooth black surface and clinked to the floor.

  “Kids these days,” it said. “No ability for conversation. I blame Facebook.”

  The thing shot into the air and held out its hands toward Ramon’s gang. An invisible force slammed into the men. Carlos went through the wall, into the room on the other side. Esteban and Jorge were flung sideways and rolled on the ground a few times before stopping. Blood dripped from Jorge’s mouth. He spit and climbed to his feet.

  “Now that is disgusting,” it said. “You could’ve at least done it out the window.”

  Jorge took out the modified Tec-9 tucked into his waistband, pointed it at the creature, and held down the trigger. Rounds flew at the black figure.

  It held up one hand. The rounds stopped in midair and hovered as if caught in pudding. Then they jiggled and turned. Jorge screamed and turned to run as the bullets raced toward him. Most missed, but one slammed into his buttock. He fell, banged his head against the floor, and lay still.

  The manager, still trembling, stepped forward, swallowing hard before taking his glasses out of his breast pocket and putting them on. “I’ve heard of you.”

  “Really?” it said, coming back down to the floor. “Where?”

  “Television. Um… Black something.

  “Onyx.”

  “Black Onyx. Yeah. Yeah, I saw you.”

  “Cool. Good piece?”

  “Um… yeah. But… ah, isn’t, I mean, isn’t all onyx black?”

  “You’re welcome, sir.” Black Onyx rose into the air and soared through the broken window as sirens screamed in the distance.

  2

  Dillon flew into the clouds. His Black Onyx suit fit him like a second skin, almost to the point where he hardly noticed it anymore. The sensations from the external world were a little dulled, but he could feel the cold wind against his face and smell the salty ocean air of the Pacific sparkling beneath him in the moonlight.

  He rolled over and over, like a dive-bombing bird, then straightened out and raced forward so fast that the water below spread as though a knife were slicing through it. He had initially thought the suit was made of some sort of metal that hadn’t been discovered yet. But the thing adjusted to him, moved with him, protected spots on his body that were injured, and loosened spots that needed to be flexible. The suit was… alive.

  Within minutes, he was over the mountainous terrain of his native Hawaii. Rolling white clouds clung to the peaks like cotton balls. He dipped low and came over the Honolulu beach, where his house sat on the shore. Jaime, his neighbor and girlfriend, was reading in her hot tub on the patio.

  He landed quietly on the wooden deck behind her. “Boo.”

  She jumped. “Dillon, seriously.”

  “Sorry. I coughed. What ya reading?”

  “You wouldn’t like it.”

  “Chick book?” He walked over and started to swing one of his legs over the side of the tub.

  “Dillon, the suit.”

  “Oh.” He stepped back.

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  “San Francisco.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Stopping some young boys from robbing the good people of GH Mutual. Now the bank can continue its work of robbing everyone else.”

  “Is that a little cynicism I sense in Dillon Mentzer, the person I thought would never grow up?”

  Dillon closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them, the suit had split down the middle. He unzipped his thermal tights and climbed into the hot tub. “I’m just working at the edges, Jaime. These guys tonight, they were just kids. Starving kids. They’re going to prison, and the criminals they were trying to steal from are going to keep robbing the public blind.”

  She laid the book down on the side of the hot tub. “I’ve told you what I want.”

  “Stop wearing the suit. I know.”

  �
�And?”

  “And what?”

  “And are you going to do it?” She moved closer and put her arm around him. “It’s too dangerous. And you have a lot more to offer than wearing some ancient tin can. You’re smart. You’re funny—”

  “Oh, keep going. I like this.”

  She kissed his cheek. “You’re handsome. You’re funny.”

  “Already said funny.”

  “Well,” she said, placing both arms around him, “you’re really funny.”

  They kissed, and he glanced around before slipping off her bathing suit top.

  Dillon spent the night at Jaime’s. That section of beach had surfers and partiers around blazing bonfires, but they were so stoned, they never noticed him stashing the suit in his garage.

  He lay in her bed in the dark, her hair covering his chest and neck. He gave her a kiss and watched her sleep.

  She was right. He was spinning his wheels with the suit. He had power unlike anything he had ever imagined, but he felt like a security guard for the wealthy.

  Before discovering the suit, he had been a treasure hunter, one of the few legitimate ones left in the world. His dad—the closest thing to a father he’d had, anyway—had taken him from an orphanage at a young age and taught him the trade. And for his efforts, James had been killed by some… creature.

  Dillon slipped out of bed, kissed Jaime on the forehead, and headed out to his garage. He stared at the suit. The metal, or whatever it was, gleamed in the dark, moving and adjusting to the light like scales on a black snake.

  She’s right, buddy. It’s time to hang you up.

  3

  Hank Jensen stood on the ice, staring out over a black sea. The moon was full, and he’d never seen it so clearly, so big. No lights were in Antarctica, so nothing dimmed the glow emanating from the sky.

  He shifted, trying to light a cigarette. His gloved fingers couldn’t flick the lighter well, and the few times he’d been successful, the flame didn’t come because of the cold.

  “You all right?” Jones asked, coming up behind him.

  “Cold, man.”

  “Thirty below, homie. You better believe it.”

  “How long we gonna be here?”

  Jones looked over at Tyler Edgar, who was going over a map by the campfire. “’Til he tells us to leave.”

  Tyler put away the map and whistled. Three men piled out of the tents, putting on their gear and crampons.

  Tyler Edgar walked over to Hank and Jones. “We’re leaving.”

  “Now?” Jones asked. “Can’t it wait ’til morning?”

  “No. It can’t. Get your gear and stay close.”

  Hank mounted the snowmobile, feeling the cold wind against his face as he adjusted his goggles. The snowmobiles roared to life, and the six men sped away from the camp. The air flying into Hank’s face was so cold, he thought the small amount of skin exposed between his goggles and the scarf tied around his mouth was going to freeze and fall off. They rode a good twenty minutes. Considering that they’d hiked six days since landing in Queen Maud Land, twenty minutes wasn’t long to wait.

  A mountain came into view. The side was perfectly smooth, as if it were made of metal instead of ice and rock. They stopped the snowmobiles at its base.

  Tyler stepped off first. “It’s here. Let’s go.”

  They readied their ice axes and formed a line. Hank brought out two Grivel Force axes that resembled the arms of a praying mantis. He pulled his beanie down farther and followed Tyler up the small trail leading to the summit.

  As he climbed, the air howled in his ears. The cold became so biting that his Fischer sub-arctic gear was useless against it. His chest, legs, toes, and fingers felt like icicles. He looked up at the summit, which was still a ways off, and felt overwhelmed. The escarpments on either side led down into blackness—and death, should they make one slip.

  Hank didn’t know how long it took, but it seemed forever until they reached the cap. Tyler pulled out the map and held a flashlight on it. He pointed to an opening the size of a manhole cover in the mountain.

  They inserted ice screws and bolts then looped cords through before hooking ropes to their harnesses. Tyler was the first one down the hole, followed by Jones. The other three men would be staying, but Hank waited a second just the same, hoping one of them would go down in his place. When none did, he hooked in his harness and descended into the blackness.

  When he finally landed on solid ground, Hank realized he wasn’t in any normal cavern on some random mountain. The surface was smooth, and the walls were curved and shaped. The room was manmade.

  “Over here,” Tyler said.

  Hank and Jones glanced at each other before following Tyler. Hank kept track of time because he wanted to know exactly how long they walked and how long it would take him to get out. He timed twelve minutes before they came to some sort of ice bridge.

  Tyler stopped a moment before making his way across. An abysmal gloom dropped off on either side, seemingly falling to the center of the earth. Even his with powerful flashlight, Hank couldn’t see the bottom. They crossed the bridge, and Hank’s mouth fell open.

  Before them was a city made of white ice. Hank couldn’t take his eyes off the buildings. The structures appeared to be consummately efficient, not a single wasted ornament. Hank peeked into one of the doors, but before he could see inside, Tyler yelled at him to keep moving.

  When they came to the tallest structure, a spiral tower, Tyler put away the map. He took off his gloves, and Hank realized it wasn’t that cold anymore.

  Tyler ran his hand over some symbols carved into the structure. He then pulled out a tin case with black fluid in it. He rubbed the fluid on the symbols then walked through the wall as if it weren’t there.

  Jones looked astonished then shrugged and walked through the wall. Hank glanced around and took a deep breath before closing his eyes and doing the same.

  Inside, Tyler and Jones were descending stairs set into an opening in the floor. Hank followed them down, his heart pounding in his ears.

  4

  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Hank recognized that they were in some sort of chamber. Bound in transparent blocks of ice were suits in the shape of tall men. Underneath them were pools of black fluid, the same fluid Tyler had pulled out of the tin case.

  Hank stood in front of one of the suits, staring up at the empty eyes. He’d been told about the suits, but he didn’t think Tyler had adequately warned him of how weird the sight would be. He glanced down at the black fluid and thought he saw it move.

  “Over here,” Tyler bellowed.

  Hank and Jones followed Tyler into an adjacent chamber. The walls were crumbling, and the ceiling had a hole in it. The room looked as though a fight had taken place there. Tyler walked across the floor and rubbed some of the black fluid on what appeared to be a sealed door. It swung open.

  On the other side was another chamber with a dull green glow from a light source Hank couldn’t see. In the center of the room, another transparent block of ice lay on the ground. And inside was the most stunningly beautiful woman Hank had ever seen. She was nude, her profile a perfect expression of the human form. Her silky black hair flowed over her shoulders, and a band of sparkling jewels crossed her forehead.

  Tyler bent over her. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

  “Who is she?” Jones asked.

  Tyler again took out the tin of fluid. “She’s our queen. Our rightful queen that should have ruled over us for six millennia. Instead, she’s locked down here like some animal.”

  Tyler searched the block of ice and found some more of the symbols near the woman’s head. He rubbed the fluid over them, and they began to glow. The ice block descended into the floor, revealing the woman lying on a bed of crimson fur.

  She opened her eyes. She inhaled as if she’d never done it before, and a smile spread over her perfect teeth.

  Tyler took her hand and helped her sit up. “Pon noi te facsi, mi regal
ia.”

  “You do not prefer your mother tongue?” she asked in a voice as smooth as silk.

  Tyler bowed his head. “Queen, forgive my ignorance. I did not think you had heard my tongue.”

  “I have heard centuries,” she said, running her hand through his hair. “I have heard the burning of Babylon, Caesar’s speeches, and the soft steps of the one you call Jesus. I heard the screams as Rome burned and the wars of faith between the Turk and Christian. I listened as Napoleon marched and as Hitler made the world tremble. I have heard all of humanity.”

  “Yes, Queen. I will never doubt again.”

  She rose and moved across the room like a beautiful serpent, her hair falling over her breasts. She stopped in front of Jones and placed her hand lightly on his face. “Are they your slaves?”

  “No, Queen,” Tyler answered. “They are sacrifices. For you.”

  Before Hank could ask what Tyler meant, the woman smiled and kissed Jones. At first, nothing happened, and then Jones’s hands started trembling. His head began to jerk violently. Jones let out one scream then burst into flames. A second later, his body fell to the floor, nothing but a skeleton.

  The woman wiped her lips and looked over at Hank.

  “No!” Hank turned and ran through the door they had entered.

  He sprinted through the city. The only noise was his boots against the ice as he headed for the bridge. He turned a corner and lost his axes but didn’t dare stop to get them.

  He was halfway across the bridge when he felt a pressure against his back. His body was lifted off the platform. He turned his head to see the woman floating in the air, holding him underneath his arms like a baby.

  “Let me go.”

  “As you wish.” She released him.

  He tumbled into the darkness, his screams echoing off the ice as they mingled with her piercing laughter.

  5