SUPER HERO CHRONICLES - CITADEL: RISE OF THE HEROES (PART 2)

RECAP: Professor Samuel Hopper had been working at C.U.R.E. Labs on a robot that could be used for those people who could not have children; his mission was to create a Real-Intelligence Cybernetic Kinaesthetic Intuitive robot (in other words a R.I.C.K.I robot). However, these efforts were thwarted by a mysterious man in black known as Mr. Severoin, who stole the robot after paying off a doctor who had been working with the professor. Panthian Corporation CEO, Padrick Panthia III was using his vast resources to find an amulet that was said to give its wearer unlimited power and he would stop at nothing to get it. Meanwhile, down-on-his-luck Bobby Flynn literally ran into trouble on Mount Dandenong Road...

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Follow the link: Super Hero Chronicles - Citadel: Rise of the Heroes (Part 1)

Ten Years Ago…

The Hackett Farmstead,

Diggers Rest, VIC Australia

27th October 1:09am EST

The music from the shed was blaring, as the outside lights of the homestead turned on. The beating of the drums drowned out the pounding of the footsteps that charged down the veranda stairs. The rhythm of the guitar drowned out the crunching of the footsteps hurrying across the gravel path that led to the shed. The singing into the microphone masked the grumbling of the determined figure headed towards the shed. The deafening sounds burst out of the shed, when the man opened the door.

The rifle blast quietened everything.

“Atworth!” The man yelled, as he lowered his rifle, “It’s one o’clock! And you and you’re bloody friends are keeping us all awake with that noise you’re calling music!”

The lead guitarist put his electric guitar on the stand and motioned for his band to stay where they were. His father’s grey-mop of hair half-covered a furious, wrinkly face, which held a thick moustache on a background of white stubble. A noticeable hunch made the man look shorter than he was, but he still held the room’s attention with his muscular frame and aggressive demeanour. “Chill, Dad, we’re just practising. We’ve got a gig tonight in Citadel. This one’s going to take us to the big time! By the way, it’s Attila now – remember – Attila and the Axemen?”

“Big time? Attila?” His father exclaimed, as he spat on the ground in disdain. “Your name is Atworth Hackett, boy! And as far as the ‘big time’ goes, you’ve been destroying our eardrums for ten years without me seeing a cent! When are you going to get it through your thick skull – you are rubbish! Nobody wants to hire rubbish!”

The nineteen-year-old was used to his father’s put downs, he usually just brushed them off. However, this time it was different – although his childhood fear of his father still lingered some place at the back of his mind – Attila’s father had attacked the boy’s music, which was one of the few things that the young man cared about. He moved threateningly closer to his father than he had ever dared and he only just noticed that he stood a little taller; mainly due to his father’s hunched posture, but the teenager had not considered that at the time. Attila glanced at his three friends and then ran a hand over his spiked hair, trying to summon his courage to speak.

A dark grin came over his father’s face. “Well, Atworth, you’ve come this far… what are you going to do – stand in front of me until I get bored or make more noise?”

Attila had finally had enough. He shoved a finger into his father’s chest and said sternly, “Just because you’re a bitter old man who didn’t fulfil his dreams, it doesn’t mean you need to shit all over ours! We’re making music and if you don’t like it, you can just go and get stuffed!” With the floodgates finally opened, Attila continued his verbal attack, much to his father’s surprise. “It’s alright when you have your drunken mates around and hit the piss ‘til all hours of the morning, but when I… AGH!” Attila fell to the ground upon feeling the effects of a swift rifle butt slamming into his jaw.

“Don’t you speak to me like that, boy!” His father shouted, before raising his rifle once more, “Nobody speaks to Huntington Hackett that way!” The rifle went off once again. “You live under my roof! If I want the boys over, I’ll have them over! But you need to learn some manners – you’re a guest at my place, boy – I could have you out of here faster than you could even think up a smartarse remark!” He pointed a warning finger at his son. “Just remember, if not for your mother, you’d be out on your arse right now! Lord knows why she wants to keep you around. Now shut the hell up and get your friends out of here!” Huntington eyed the rest of the band members sternly, spat on the ground next to Attila and then left the shed for the homestead.

“You okay, man?” Chico Lobos asked, as he got out of his seat from behind the drums. Attila’s best friend was a golden-skinned giant, but he did not like conflict; as he had seen enough violence from his own father, before the man disappeared. Chico was a year older than the rest of the band members, as he had been held back at school. The twenty-year-old was now hoping that the band would take off so he could help support his mother and live the life he felt he was meant to live.

“Yeah, Chop-Chop, I’ve grow used to it,” Attila said, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. “Although I did think he was gonna kill me at the end there.”

“He has killed us, bro!” Tripp stated, picking up one piece of Attila’s guitar.

“Bastard!” Attila shouted, only to grab at his aching jaw. He stumbled over to the precious remains of his guitar and held them to his chest. “I’m gonna kill him for this!” He muttered in a quieter tone so that it did not affect his jaw as much.

Chico tied his scruffy, black hair back and then rubbed his stubble, considering what this meant for them. “Man, how’re we gonna play tonight? This is your only axe, ‘Tila. We can’t have the lead guitarist there without a guitar.”

“Maybe we should cancel,” Tripp suggested, as he disconnected his bass guitar from the amplifier. “This gig is not looking so good. Josh isn’t feeling well and now this…” He pointed to the remains of Attlia’s guitar, letting the statement hang in the air.

“Cancel?” Attila scoffed, placing the pieces of the guitar on a bench next to a small bar fridge. “No way, man – we’ve worked too hard for this. You said your brother was going to be okay for tonight and we’ll find a guitar… even if I have to borrow one.”

Tripp shrugged as he packed his guitar into its case. “Alright, bro, if you reckon it’ll work out… I’ll see you guys tonight then. But, call me if we’re not going. I don’t want to hassle Josh about it if it’s not happening.”

“Don’t worry Tripp, we’ll be there.” Attila declared, as he went to the bar fridge and pulled out two cans of cola. Holding one of the cold cans against his aching jaw, he winced, closed the fridge and walked out of the shed after Tripp and Chico.

The night sky glittered with stars, as a waning gibbous moon prepared itself to shine in all its glory within the following nights. Resting themselves on the bonnet of the rusted wreck of a yellow Ford XD ute; which in the light of day was more beige in colour, with reddish-brown rust that covered large patches of the former vehicle; they farewelled Tripp and watched him disappear into the darkness of the long driveway that made its way past the homestead. Attila handed a can to Chico and slid himself up to sit on the bonnet. Chico did the same and then the crack and fizz of his can opening broke the silence.

Attila, with the can still held to his jaw, uttered, “He’s not right, is he, Chop-Chop?”

“Nah, Tila,” Chico burped, after taking a swig of his cola, “Tripp just gets worked up about things like that… worries about things not going to plan. If I know his bro – Joshy will be up for it… we just gotta find you an axe to grind.”

“No, not Tripp – I’m talkin’ about my dad,” Attila corrected him, as he looked up at the stars and cracked open his can.

“No offence, ‘Tila, but your dad’s a psycho,” Chico exclaimed, “…’sides, if we were rubbish, why would The West Citadel Pub want us playing there? They’ve had some rockin’ acts.”

Attila pondered this for a second and then charged his can into Chico’s, “I’ll drink to that.”

Suddenly, the sky illuminated and a streak of light crossed the expanse of stars, before crashing down into the paddock ahead of them. The two friends looked at each other, Chico dropping his drink mid-scull.

“Whoa! Aliens!” Chico said with a mixture of surprise and fear.

Attila jumped off the car, put his can down on the bonnet and began walking quickly towards the distant glow. “Let’s take a look, Chop-Chop.”

Chico slid off the car, whilst attempting to wipe the spilt cola from his jeans. Noticing the futility of it, he looked up to see Attila fading into the darkness of the paddock. “I don’t know, ‘Tila – that alien stuff really freaks me out, man. I’ve seen these shows that have, like people who encountered these crazy, strange phenomena and disappeared, man.”

“We don’t even know what it is,” Attila’s voice came from the darkness, “We’re just checking it out.”

Chico sighed and ambled cautiously after him.

Mount Dandenong Tourist Road,

Mount Dandenong, VIC Australia

27th October 1:21am EST

Bobby Flynn rose from the middle of the road. He patted himself down – first, cautiously and then more frantically as the memory of the van coming towards him hit him. Realising that he was uninjured, though his clothes had been torn and ruined, Bobby began to take in the rest of the scene around him. A black van had been split in two – one half on the left side of the road balancing precariously on the precipice, while the other was on the right side of the road half-lodged into the side of the mountain. Millions of smaller parts of the vehicle were strewn all over the road, along with several body parts; whether they belonged to one person or more, Bobby could not tell.

“Oh, God! Oh, God! I didn’t mean to do this… What happened?” Bobby uttered to himself, before fully comprehending the situation. “Help! HELP!” He yelled into the night, but there was no answer.

The churning of metal made him look towards the part of the van that sat on the edge of the road, rocking as though it was ready to tumble its way down the dangerous drop that Bobby himself was almost going to take earlier in the night. “No, no, no – it can’t fall down.” He moved quickly to the portion of the vehicle that was closest to the road and pulled with all his strength. “Come on – don’t fall! Don’t fall!” With one mighty heave, the half-van was more on solid ground than it had been and appeared to not be in danger of going over anymore. Bobby scanned the interior of the van and almost vomited when he saw two smouldering partial bodies still strapped to their seats with a seatbelt, however it was like their left sides had been ripped out by some dangerous beast and then cauterised. One was the driver, while the second was a passenger in what was once the back seat of the van.

He turned away and that was when he noticed a black cape flapping along the road, covering various scraps of debris and then coming to a stop by a burning pant leg, complete with a black leather shoe. The cape eventually caught fire, with its smoking ashes blowing to the right side of the road, where Bobby found a black wide-brimmed bowler hat lying next to a small body.

“No! No! No! No!” Bobby called, as he rushed to the body. “It’s… it’s a boy!”

Without any real thought, Bobby picked him up. The boy felt heavy, but Bobby decided that that must be because he was limp. He bounced around, shaking the body in the hope of reviving the boy. “Come on – wake up, kid! Come on!” However, the boy was unresponsive. “Come on – I didn’t mean to do this! I don’t even know what I did! Please, you can’t die!”

Just then, a loud rumbling noise was heard descending the mountain. Panic overtook Bobby and he began moving down the road, still clutching the body of the child. “No… they’ll know that it was me… I’ll end up in jail… I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean any of it!”

When Bobby finally identified the rumbling as the air breaks of a truck, he began to run faster. Very soon he was a blur; racing across suburbs, weaving between cars, through parklands and different roads, until he came to his Californian bungalow on the other side of the city. Not even questioning how he managed such a feat, Bobby placed the child down on the tiled floor of his small veranda and scoured his surrounding, while fumbling around in his pocket for his keys. Feeling that nobody had witnessed his return, Bobby unlocked his door, opened it and then turned his attention back to the child.

“Hey,” Bobby said in a hushed whisper, “It’s time to wake up, kid.” He shook the child a little by his shoulders, but there was no response. Bobby stood up, stifled a sob and ran his hands over his face. “I killed him… I killed them all…” He muttered to himself amidst his tears. “And I don’t even know how I did it…” He looked at the child and then panic struck him again. “Why did I bring him here? I should have left him at the… Oh, no! You stupid idiot, Bobby! The cops will find him here and you’ll end up in prison for murder!” His thoughts flashed through his mind non-stop. Then an idea struck him. He closed the door to his home and locked it, then hefted the child over his shoulder again. Checking to see if anyone was around, Bobby crept off his veranda and out into the street. Upon feeling that there were no eyes on him, he ran to a park that was several blocks away from his house.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Bobby cooed softly as he placed the body down in a child’s playground. Leaning the boy against the support bar of a swing, Bobby sighed, waved weakly at the child and then ran home once more.

Upon entering his bungalow, Bobby stood with his back against his closed front door, breathing loudly. “I’m an idiot! I should have killed myself at that lookout! Nobody would have cared… but they’ll care about a dead child!” His thoughts turned to tears and Bobby slid down the door and onto the cracked linoleum floor crying.

Minutes later a distant siren brought him out of his wallowing and the reality of what transpired hit him again. He lifted himself off the ground and walked cautiously into the lounge room to take a quick peek out of the window. “They know about me,” he thought as he wiped his nose with his sleeve, “I’m a killer – they’re going to take me to jail.”

Seeing that nobody was out there in the darkness, Bobby closed the curtain and turned on the television, then walked across to the open-plan kitchen and grabbed the bottle of whiskey he had sitting in the cupboard above the sink.

“… Prime Minister Lincoln Ramzy did not hold back when confronted by Opposition Leader, Joseph Zachary’s comments…”

Bobby ignored the television, as he took a swig from the bottle. His thoughts automatically returned to the child he left in the park and he took another long drink for the bottle, cursing himself. “What if the boy is dead and another kid finds him? What if they get my DNA or something from the body?” He drank once more to try and stop the thoughts mincing around in his mind.

He suddenly noticed the light flashing on his landline phone. Bobby edged closer to the phone table and saw that his answering machine had eight messages. He pressed the play button and a beep signalled a trembling voice to begin over the speaker, “Roberto, dové sei? Roberto? Winston and I are really worried about you… Look, if you’re not going to answer, we’re coming over… Roberto? Va bene!” Click!

Beep! “Roberto, cosa stai facendo? I was at your house knocking for almost ten minutes! Dové sei? Why aren’t you answering? I hope you’re not avoiding me! Roberto?” Click!

Beep! “Roberto, it’s eleven o’clock – Perché non sei a casa? Roberto… Winston, he’s still not answering – should we call the police? I’m not over-exaggerating things! He should be home, but he’s not answering… what if he’s had an accident and…” Click!

As Bobby’s mind began pushing the sounds of the answering machine towards the back of his mind, the television suddenly piqued his interest.

“… and in breaking news, two men were found dead after a head on collision with an unknown object along Mount Dandenong Road tonight. A truck driver, who first came across the incident, said that the van appeared as though it had been hit by a missile… Police did not wish to speculate, but did say, “From initial observation it doesn’t seem likely that whatever hit the vehicle would have been able to escape totally unscathed, so we will begin searching the area and…”

Bobby’s mind registered what he was hearing and he took another drink from the bottle. “There were three men and a boy…” He muttered to himself, before swigging from the bottle again. He pondered on what was said once more. “No… there were three… two in the van and one on the ground… parts of him…” The images filled his head, he dropped the whiskey bottle and he raced to the bathroom, slumped to his knees and vomited the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

“Ci sei, Roberto? Have you run off? You’re being just like your father, Roberto – he ran away too… we don’t solve our problems by running away, Roberto… He won’t answer, Winston… No I haven’t tried his mobile phone…” Click!

“I killed them…” Bobby uttered, before vomiting once more. He lifted his head from the bowl and wiped at the dregs of saliva that hung from his mouth with his sleeve. His skull throbbed, his vision blurred and Bobby Flynn fell limply onto the tiled floor.

The Hackett Farmstead,

Diggers Rest, VIC Australia

27th October 1:22am EST

Attila stood at the edge of a large crater, examining a fiery glow at the bottom. The smoke that emanated from the crater affected his view, but he was excited to see what remained of the extra-terrestrial debris that landed in his father’s paddock. Attila looked back, as Chico finally caught up to him.

“It didn’t look like it landed this far away when we were back at the ute,” Chico puffed while giving his excuse as to why it took him so long to get there. His long hair fell over his face, as he hunched over to catch his breath. “What is it, Tila?”

“Don’t know,” Attila responded, focusing his attention back on the eerie green and purple glow at the bottom of the crater, “It looks like a space rock or something.”

“Maybe an alien egg,” Chico suggested, coming a little closer to the edge of the crater.

“More like an asteroid,” Attila corrected him.

“Nah, asteroids are huge man!” Chico said while straightening up, “This is only small… and it’s glowing – has to be an alien egg.”

“Alien egg?” Attila turned to his friend with an amused look and scoffed, “Since when do aliens lay eggs anyway?”

“That movie… I think it was called Aliens – they laid eggs. Not glowing ones, but the movie must have had some creative licence.”

“A movie, Chop-Chop – not real life,” Attila told him, reverting back to the crater and weighing up his options.

Chico looked to the skies. “You never know what’s up there, man – it’s like the last frontier and stuff.”

“Yeah, and we’re in a galaxy far, far away,” Attila stated mockingly, as he crouched down to look closer at the sides of the crater.

“Exactly,” Chico said, not realising that his friend was mocking him.

Attila smiled at Chico’s ignorance, while surveying the crater. Having decided the route he was taking down, he announced, “I’m going down there, Chop-Chop.”

Chico grabbed Attila’s jacket, just as his friend was about to descend. “Are you crazy, man? That’s some freaky stuff down there! You can’t be serious! You don’t know what it could do to us, man! We need, like, haz-mat suits and shit like that if we’re going to check it out.”

Attila pulled his jacket out of Chico’s hands and shook his head at his large friend. “We don’t even know what’s down there. It’s probably just a bit of rock, but it might be something else. We’ll be famous if we find it first, Chop-Chop – you coming?” He asked with a glance behind him. Chico shook his head fearfully. “Suit yourself,” Attila said with a sigh, “But if I end up getting superpowers like Superman and you don’t, then don’t get upset with me.” Without another word, he crouched and slid down into the crater, disappearing into the smoke.

“Superman didn’t get powers from falling space rock!” Chico shouted after him. Then he thought about what he was saying and murmured, “The space rock was something that could kill him.” After what seemed to Chico to be almost ten minutes, but was only a few seconds, he became a little worried about his friend.

“What you see down there, Tila?” He called.

There was no response.

“Come on, Tila, you’re freaking me out, man.” Chico exclaimed nervously, as he tried to catch a glimpse of his friend through the smoke, “Tila, stop stuffing around, man – I’m serious!”

Still there was no response.

“You’re not going to make me go down there, man!” Chico yelled into the abyss. “Oh hell,” He cursed to himself, as he kicked a stone down into the crater, “You are gonna make me go down there.” Stepping hesitantly onto the incline, Chico tried one more time to reach his friend, “If I get down there and you’re just stuffing me around, I swear I’m gonna kill you!”

Without another response, Chico felt that it was his duty to go and get his friend, even if it meant facing his fear of the unknown. But just as he began the slide down into the crater, a bright purple light shot out from its centre and Chico raised his hands to shield himself from it. However, it did nothing as an explosion sent the young drummer’s body flying across the paddock.

Federation Apartments,

Citadel, VIC Australia

5th November 8:36am EST

“… Nobody knows where Captain Thunder came from, but the City of Citadel is a lot safer with him around. As for Spike Kid and the Patchenator, they’ll be spending quite some time in Fortress Valley Penitentiary… And in other hero news, Bastion City Lord Mayor extended a hand of gratitude to Accolade, who has been busy cleaning up the streets of the…”

Seth Braddock turned off the television and rolled onto his side in the spacious king-sized bed. He knew he was living the life – his fiancée was an up-and-coming model, he was a well-known actor (not an A-lister, but getting there) and he enjoyed the comforts that living in the penthouse of Federation Apartments afforded him. He sighed, noticing the feeling of his large pectorals expanding and contracting. His usual well-kept, ash brown hair was a mess from a rough night’s sleep and with his last movie having wrapped up filming last week, he felt he had a lot of time on his hands. He shifted his bulky frame up into a sitting position and contemplated going down to the private gymnasium to pump some weights.

“Are you still lazing about?” Courtney questioned, as she exited the ensuite putting on her earrings. Seth took in her tall, slender, yet muscular figure which had been squeezed into a black sheath dress that was cinched at the waist with a matching black belt. Her long wavy chocolate brown hair, contrasted by caramel highlights, was flicked back in order to complete the task of attaching her earring to her right earlobe.

“I didn’t get in until two-thirty this morning,” Seth replied, while stretching and considering whether he should get out of bed once again.

“Well, don’t forget, I’ve got a photo shoot at three o’clock… Oh, where did I put my phone?” Courtney rushed out of the bedroom, hopping about trying to get her second black sling-back onto her foot, while checking the lounge-room for her mobile phone. Seth was in awe of how she could deftly bounce around on one two-inch heel, while trying to slip on her second shoe. “Oh, god – where is it?”

Seth grinned as he reached across to the bedside table to grab his phone. The screen opened upon recognising his face and he hit the dial button.

“It’s not in here!” Courtney called from wherever she was in the apartment, “And the car’s coming for me in… damn, five minutes.”

Just then, a muffled tune came from the open walk-in wardrobe of the bedroom. Seth could just make out the Gypsy Butterflies song “So Far Gone” and it seemed to catch his fiancée’s ear.

“My phone!” Courtney shrieked as she dashed back into the bedroom, then into the walk-in, finally realising that she had left the phone in the coat she had worn the previous night. “It’s probably the driver.” She said to nobody in particular; but possibly for Seth’s benefit.

Courtney pulled out the phone with a small, excited squeal of success and then answered, “Hello?”

“Hello, mon cheri…” A feeble French accent responded.

Courtney turned and walked out of the wardrobe to face the bed, noticing Seth smiling while on his phone, before hanging up on the caller.

“Thank you, darling,” Courtney said in a sardonic tone, returning the smile. She walked over to the bed and leaned across, giving her fiancée a kiss. “But do me a favour…”

“What’s that?” Seth inquired, while placing his phone on the bedside table without looking.

“Don’t ever try a French accent when you go for those auditions.” Courtney kissed him again, just as her phone began to vibrate and sing “…although you see me here, I’m so far gone – so far gone… from you”. “Now that will be the driver. See you tonight, love,” Courtney sang out, as she blew a final kiss while exiting the bedroom. Seth then heard her answer the call, “Yes? Sure, I’m coming down now.”

Then Courtney’s voice faded off and he heard the door close. The apartment fell silent once more. Seth sighed and looked around the bedroom in the fashion of someone who did not know what to do with himself. “Well, I won’t get any more sleep,” He said to himself, before looking at the digital clock on the bedside table. He let out another loud sigh and threw the covers back. “I guess it’s coffee time!”

The Citadel State Hospital,

Carlton, VIC Australia

7th November 2:03pm EST

“Atworth, my baby, can you hear me?” Dolores Hackett desperately whispered to her son. Although the doctors had assured her that he could hear her and that speaking to him would be one of the best ways of helping him come out of the coma; Dolores did not place her faith in them. She clung onto her crucifix, while tears streamed down her well-worn face, making her aged grey eyes glisten in the humming light of the hospital room. “Atworth, you need to come back to me, my boy. Please God – don’t take my boy away… I need him here…” She wept.

Attila did not stir. Having been in the coma since he was found out in the paddock eleven days ago, the young man was simply a limp shell of his former self and it pained Chico Lobos to venture in, as he did at that moment. Most times Chico would simply acknowledge his friend with a quick “G’day ‘Tila”, but he felt foolish talking to a body that was not going to respond. This, in turn, made him feel guilty for acting in this way, but it was how Chico coped; back home he would chastise himself for not stopping Attila from going into the crater, but here, in the hospital, he just needed to control his emotions.

“Come on, Mrs. Hackett,” Chico put a bandaged hand on Dolores’ shoulder, “Mum’s waiting downstairs to take us home. Attila will be here in the morning.”

She patted Chico’s hand and he removed it from her shoulder, believing that he should not be consoled for what had happened. A slight concussion was all they said, and apart from a few burns, there was nothing else wrong with him. But Chico felt they were wrong; he could not pinpoint the problem, but there was something different about him. A pins and needles feeling resonated through his hands, which seemed to happen whenever he thought about the incident, so he turned his attention back to the old lady in front of him. Dolores was going through the ritual of saying goodbye to her son after yet another day.

“Okay, Chico, I’m ready to go,” Dolores stated, after kissing her crucifix. Chico turned away, as Dolores placed Attila’s hands across his chest, to give the appearance that the teenager was holding the crucifix to his heart. Chico did not like when Attila’s mother did this, as he thought it looked too much like she was preparing him to be locked away in a pine box, never to see the light of day again. “I will see you tomorrow, Atworth,” she said, as though the young man would respond.

Chico ushered her out the door and took one last look at his friend on the hospital bed. He shook his head and followed a teary Dolores towards the elevator. After a quiet ride down, other than the old lady’s sniffling and wiping at her nose, they exited the hospital to where a faded-green 1989 Toyota Corolla was waiting for them in a fifteen minute parking bay.

“How is he doing?” Chico’s mother asked in her thick Peruvian accent, as Dolores and Chico entered the vehicle. Chico shook his head, while putting on his seatbelt in the front passenger side of the car. Looking into her rear-view mirror, Concitta Lobos noticed Attila’s mother wiping at her eyes with a dilapidated tissue. “He’ll be alright, Dolores,” Concitta tried to reassure her friend; “They’ve got the best doctors looking after him.”

As the car pulled away, Attila’s body lay still in the hospital bed. The nurse looked at her patient’s records and took down a few details from one of the machines that he was connected to, before leaving the room.

Just as the door closed, a bright purple light illuminated Attila’s body, but vanished within seconds.

To continue the story, follow the link to:

Super Hero Chronicles - Citadel: Rise of the Heroes (Part 3)