First Superhero 1: The Second Super

THE SECOND SUPER

THE FIRST SUPERHERO, BOOK ONE

LOGAN RUTHERFORD

WWW.AUTHORLOGANRUTHERFORD.COM  

Contents

Copyright

Thank You (Free Stuff!)

1.
The Interview

2.
Broken Windows

3.
The Last Supper

4.
Genesis

5.
The Second Super

6.
The Aftermath

7.
Excuses

8.
A Surprise Visit

9.
A Happy Accident

10.
A Terrible Mistake

11.
Cleared for Liftoff

12.
The Calm Before the Storm

13.
Suiting Up

14.
Richter Returns

15.
The Mountaintop

16.
Two Sides to the Truth

17.
Interferance

18.
Performance Anxeity

19.
Enemy of the State

20.
Confident Confessions

21.
Party Crashers

22.
Drives

23.
Breaking Curfew

24.
Searching for Answers

25.
A Few Questions

26.
To The Stars

27.
Richter’s Game

28.
Crossroads

29.
A New Resolve

30.
The Lion’s Den

31.
A Plan

32.
The Fight Begins

33.
Detonation

34.
Plan B

35.
Flight

36.
Asleep at the Wheel

37.
Born for the Grave

Kane Returns

Mailing List = Free Stuff

Also by Logan Rutherford

About the Author

The Second Super © 2015 by Logan Rutherford

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover Art by Damonza (
www.damonza.com
)

Copyedited by Gabriela West (
www.editforindies.com
)

Fragments & Fictions

THANK YOU (FREE STUFF!)

I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help spread the word.

You can also sign up for my mailing list at
authorloganrutherford.com/list
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Mortis,
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Thank you for supporting my work.

THE INTERVIEW

SEPTEMBER 19TH, 2078

Leopold Renner barely registered the sound of his car’s autopilot telling him he’d arrived at his destination. He was distracted by the possibilities of what he was about to learn, so it wasn’t until the friendly female voice told him a second time that he’d arrived at the Tempest Memorial Museum before it finally registered with him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as reached over to his driver’s seat to grab his tablet.

Leopold climbed out of his dark blue car, and closed the door behind him. The car drove off on its own, going to find a parking space. Leopold wished it hadn’t gone so fast, however. He wanted to look himself over in the reflection of the car to make sure he looked nice. However, he would’ve found nothing wrong. He would’ve seen that each curl of his brown hair was placed perfectly, just like it was every day thanks to his genetically modified follicles. He would’ve seen that his green eyes were piercing as always, and his early-thirties face looked not a day over twenty.

Still, despite looking so meticulous, Leopold still felt as if he should’ve brushed his teeth himself instead of using his personal hygiene robot, just to be sure everything was perfect.

He walked up the steps to the museum, which was an old white house that was taller than it was wide. Leopold walked across the porch, the creaking boards beneath him giving him an uneasy feeling. He wasn’t used to sounds like that. Sound of age, and strain.

He knocked on the dark green door and waited. While he waited, he checked around, looking for signs of anyone else. He found it strange that the place wasn’t bustling with activity. This was, after all, the Tempest Memorial Museum. The news had just broken recently that the museum curator was in fact the widow of Tempest, whom she said was a man by the name of Kane Andrews. Leopold, being one of the top reporters in the country, packed up his vehicle and sped to the Museum as fast as he could. So the fact that there was no one else there before him, Leopold found peculiar.

The door opened, and bells jingled from within the Museum. Standing on the other side of the door stood the museum curator, Mrs. Andrews. She looked up at Leopold with sparkling eyes, and a smile that was as bright as it was warm. Wrinkles shifted and spread across her face, a rarity in a world where people could live to be almost a hundred and fifty before wrinkles even began to show. “You must be Mr. Renner,” she said as she looked Leopold up and down, her stark white ponytail bouncing around with her head movement.

Leopold gave her a genuine smile and reached out his hand. “Yes, ma’am,” he said as he shook her frail hand. “And you must be Mrs. Andrews.”

At the mention of her name, Mrs. Andrews smiled even bigger and her eyes brightened even more. “You betcha,” she said with a wink.

Leopold already adored the woman’s charisma, and his excitement grew that much more.

Mrs. Andrews stood to the side, gesturing for Leopold to come in. “Come on in, Mr. Renner. What’ll it be, tea or coffee?”

“Coffee,” Leopold said as he walked into the foyer. His mouth hung open from the last syllable, though. He couldn’t find the strength or will to close it, as he looked upon the headgear of his hero.
The
hero.

Tempest’s crimson head piece with navy stitching around the eyes sat on a bust underneath a glass case.

“Where’s the rest of it?” Leopold asked.

“That’s a question I can’t answer,” Mrs. Andrews said with a sly smile.

She disappeared through a door, which Leopold assumed was to the kitchen. He gazed around the room for a moment, looking at all the things in the cases. A piece of steel girder from Tempest’s and Richter’s first real battle, a duplicate of a sealed Scroll of Power from the Vespa War, a bronze serpent’s head from a terrorist organization that took Tempest years to bring down…Leopold was overwhelmed by it all.

“This way, Mr. Renner,” Mrs. Andrews said from behind him.

Leopold turned around, and followed Mrs. Andrews—who held a tray with a mug and a teacup on it—through a set of French doors. She led Leopold to a library that housed tons of books, most of them about Tempest or the other Supers that came in his wake—both good and evil. Or worse, a chaotic neutral.

Mrs. Andrews set the tray down, and then sat herself down in a faded, blue recliner. “Have a seat, Mr. Renner,” she said as she took the tea bag out of her cup.

Leopold crossed the room, noting the musty book smell in his head, which in turn appeared written down on the screen of the tablet he held in his hands. He sat down on the faded, blue love seat that matched the recliner Mrs. Andrews sat in.

“Will you be using that tablet?” she asked as nicely as she could, but Leopold could still hear a hint of a condescending tone.

“Yes, ma’am, is that all right with you?” Leopold asked, not wanting to offend her.

“Yes of course, whatever it takes,” she said as she put down her teacup. “But in case you couldn’t tell, I have a liking for the archaic,” she added with a discreet chuckle, as if she’d just shared an inside joke with a friend.

“Well, using a tablet is considered archaic by some people’s standards,” Leopold said, trying his best to be in on the joke.

Mrs. Andrews gave an innocent laugh and nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Leopold reached for his coffee and took a sip. “So,” he began as he set down his mug, “Mrs. Andrews. I guess the question that I think is on a lot of people’s minds is simple: Why?”

Mrs. Andrews burst out laughing. “Oh my, Mr. Renner. That is a simple question, yet very complicated. Could you be a bit more specific?”

Leopold sat for a moment, thinking. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, he didn’t know where to begin. He was hoping Mrs. Andrews would just start going and he could just be a note-taker, relishing the information he was being given. He wiped his clammy hands on his khaki pants and thought of his second question. “Why is there no one else here?”

Mrs. Andrews’s smile turned sad. “Because most people have forgotten. My husband is now just a mere memory in most people’s minds. A legend. He and the other Supers brought humanity into a new age, but they all died off along with the times.”

It made sense to Leopold. He only knew so much about Tempest and the other Supers because of how much they’d done for him personally. Studying them was a bit of an obsession for him. Time moved so quickly nowadays, and people’s attention spans were notoriously short. They didn’t care about the Supers of the past, and after the events that led to the end of the Super era, most were eager to forget.

“Why did you just now come forward with Tempest’s identity?” Leopold asked next.

Mrs. Andrews sat for a moment, staring into her tea as if the dark liquid held the answer to his question. “Because,” she began. “I miss him.” She looked up at Leopold with watery eyes. “And he deserves for people to know who he was. How great he was. I don’t have much time left on this Earth,” she said, examining her frail, wrinkled arms. “I’ve stayed away from anything that would extend my life. Those things would just prolong my time away from Kane, who’s waiting for me up above.” Her face brightened up. Leopold could only imagine she was thinking about seeing him again, which struck a sad chord within him. “I’m the only one left who knows the story of Kane Andrews. And it’s about time that story was told.”

Now it was Leopold’s turn to smile as big as he could. “Well,” he said, doing his best to contain his childish glee. “I’m ready to listen.”

Mrs. Andrews nodded. “Well then, Mr. Renner, let’s begin.”

BROKEN WINDOWS

JULY 7TH, 2015

I sat on the couch of my ranch house in Indiana, watching the television as the person referred to as Richter went on his rampage through New York City.