Under The Boot Of Heroes

2050. The ruins of Wrocław were hauntingly quiet on the first morning of June. Broken buildings, shattered churches and ruined neighbourhoods as far as the eye could see. This city was once home to such vibrant culture and life. Now, just rubble and ruin, like many other cities throughout the world. Lyon, Birmingham, Jaipur, Philadelphia, and so many more lay dead, destroyed, made an example of when the True Gods rose to power in 2035. Overlord, their leader, had descended upon these cities, using his raw, god-like power to batter humanity into submission. For fifteen years the world has been under the boot of Superheroes.

A single helicopter with the flag of the United States descended from the clouds into the ruins of the obliterated metropolis below.

‘How long until we land?!’ Asked the passenger, shouting through his headset. He was aged, fifty years, scarred from his service and experience. It was difficult to tell if the grey in his hair was from age or stress.

As he waited for an answer, he adjusted the American flag pin on his suit. Something that all CIA agents wear to show their loyalty to their country.

‘Not long, Mr Philips, fifteen minutes!’ Replied the pilot.

‘Good!’ Phillips nodded. ‘Are Blue and his team already there with the new recruits?!’

‘Yes, sir, already waiting for us!’

Agent Phillips nodded again, leaning back into his seat. He felt his leg begin to tremble as he stared into the chaotic remnants below. He was all too familiar with the sight. He had worked closely with the Superheroes of old when he first started his career, back when they were heroes, cleaning up numerous battlefields and invasion sites.

He reached into his shirt collar, pulling out the heart-shaped locket that hung around his neck. He hesitated. What lay inside still haunted him to this day. He paused, tacking a deep breath before flicking the necklace open. What he saw brought a tear to his eye. Two photos, both showing a woman and child no older than five. The cold metal of the locket pressed into his skin as he buried his head into his hands, his mind slipping away, filling with memories.

‘Mommy! Daddy!’ Cried a little girl, bursting into Phillips’ bedroom, giggling, jumping onto the bed. It was a cold December morning. Agent Phillips was just waking up, when his daughter, Claire, decided to join him and his wife.

‘Oof!’ He exclaimed as Claire landed on him. ‘Come here, you little rugrat!’ He teased, unleashing the tickle monster.

His wife, Emily, rolled over, huffing from being eight months pregnant. She smiled a mother’s smile as she rested her head on her palm. A perfect December morning, she thought.

‘Can I have some cereal, please, daddy?’

‘Of course Princess, come on, I’ll race you!’

The TV was a flurry with news as Phillips got ready for work, fixing his tie and attaching his flag pin onto his suit jacket, ignoring the television. Emily watched as little Claire played with her dolls.

‘Michael, do you really have to go into work today?’

Phillips took as sip of coffee. ‘Yeah, sorry hun, I’m covering for Addams this weekend, but he’s covering me next week so we can visit your parents in Rockville,’ he replied, walking over to kiss his wife goodbye.

She grinned, leaning into his lips, feeling the warmth on her cheek. ‘Can’t wait.’

‘Bye girls, I love you!’

‘Love you too, dear.’

‘Love you, daddy!’

The morning’s cold wind stung the agent’s face as he made his way to his car. It was just like any morning. He drank his coffee, said goodbye to his family and, as usual, said hello to Frank, his old, retired firefighter neighbour who was always doing something in his yard. But he was nowhere to be seen. Phillips thought this strange. But he had to go to work, so he paid it no mind. There was a promotion up for grabs at the CIA and being late would hurt his chances.

As he drove to work, he noticed more strangeness. There was no one. No cars, nor pedestrians. Usually, he would hit the morning traffic as he made his way through Langley, but the streets were dead. ‘Odd,’ he muttered to himself.

He cursed as he remembered he put his phone on silent last night at the movies. ‘Jesus, fifteen missed calls.’ As soon as he spoke, his phone lit up as the same number called him. ‘This is Phillips,’ he answered.

‘Jesus Christ and the holy mother, where the hell have you been, Phillips!’ Screamed the voice on the other end.

‘Sorry, sir, my phone was on silent, is everything alright?’

‘No, everything is not goddamn alright, have you not seen what the hell is happening?!’ The screaming continued.

Phillips felt a shiver run down his spine. ‘What’s happening?!’ He started to panic.

‘The O.P’s, the Superheroes, they’re killing each other!’

Phillips felt a quiver run through him.

‘What, why!?’

His boss on the other end was screaming at someone before returning to the phone conversation.

‘No idea, the West Coast Warriors are already dead, Manhattan’s under the water, and part of Europe’s on fire, and there is no word of Champion or the other Saviours.’

Phillips sped up his car, trying to get to work quicker. ‘Ok sir, what do we do?’ He was determined to help, to show his worth.

‘Do? We don’t do a goddamn thing, Phillips! What, you want us to bring weapons to a superpower fight?!’ His boss continued to scream. He was so loud that Phillips had to move the phone away from his ear.

‘Henderson, why are the lights going out? Why is everything so goddamn dar-‘

The call suddenly went quiet.

‘Sir? Sir?!’

Phillips slowed down, still listening to the static coming from his phone. ‘Sir, are you still-’ A sudden, devastating explosion erupted from the centre of the city. The shock wave levelled every building in the area.

Phillips did everything he could to control his car, swerving along the cracking road. He glanced out his window, helpless, as he watched buildings full of people collapse to the ground. The road disintegrated before his eyes, forcing the agent’s car into a barely standing tree. His ears and head rang as he came to a quick and painful stop. The front of the car was completely wrapped around the tree. His body would have been mixed with the mess of metal and wood if he had been going any faster.

Phillips gasped as he regained consciousness. The crash had nearly killed him, broken shards of glass stabbed into his face and body. He cried in agony, unfastening his seat belt and prying the car door open. He clutched his ribs, falling on his hands and knees. As he looked towards the explosion, he froze, his eyes widening and his words leaving him. Rising from the epicentre of the blast came two caped figures, one clutching the other by the throat as they rose higher into the air. The young agent watched in terrified awe as the source of the devastation revealed itself. So it was true, the Superheroes were at war. He quickly noticed the colours of the injured hero’s costume, red and green. Champion, Earth’s guardian. He had only met the golden aged hero once, but the costume was seared into his mind, like the rest of the world. The other, he did not know, he had never seen a hero armoured in pure gold before.

Within seconds, Champion was thrown. The force and speed of one god-like creature throwing another tore apart the sound barrier, a riptide of kinetic force destroyed even more of the demolished city.

Phillips tried to keep up, tried to follow where the hero had been thrown to, but the speed was too great. However, he did feel the tremor as Champion hit the ground, destroying everything in his path. No one would have guessed that the damage would extend through three states.

Phillips’ mind returned as he realised the direction of the destruction, the direction in which the guardian of the planet had landed.

‘No,’ he muttered, waddling off down the street.

With the destruction of his car, he was forced to walk. He shivered, still making his way through city that resembled a warzone. Not once did he allow himself to stop, even as his breath got louder and shirt slowly soaked through with blood.

After thirty minutes he reached his street. There were no cars remaining, his neighbours had already fled. Phillips kept moving, limping and wincing with every painful step. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘No, please.’

His world crashed around him as he reached his house, or what remained of it. Mere splinters of wood, sticking out of a perfect line of destruction and death. Tears started to stream down his face as he bared witness to a god’s wrath. There was nothing, no house nor neighbouring houses, no rubble to search, no family. He clutched his chest, feeling the heart-shaped locket his daughter had given him. He screamed, a scream that would last a life time, a scream that would shape him for the rest of his life.

‘Sir, sir, we’ve arrived!’ The pilot cried. The helicopter blades were still deafening as it landed on a decimated town square.

Phillips pulled himself away from his wretched memories. Waiting for him were a battalion of armed soldiers of different nations, brought together for a common goal, as well as three large, armoured vehicles.

The CIA agent scanned the hastily made meeting point before walking towards a warrior, clad head to toe in weapons and blue armour. ‘Blue Bullet!’ He called

‘Phillips!’ Blue Bullet replied. It was clear from his voice that the mercenary was old, older than Phillips and with twice the experience.

‘Where are the others?’ Phillips asked, shaking Blue’s hand. The helicopter had finally stopped, making it easier to talk.

Blue Bullet nodded, beaconing the agent to follow him towards the transports. ‘Fire Walker and Ghost Blade are taking care of War Child, he got hurt on our last mission.’ He clenched his hands in anger. ‘I take it you heard about Argentina?’ He asked, sounding annoyed.

Phillips looked at the armed soldiers standing guard. ‘I did, the mission would have been a success if Overlords reaper hadn’t shown up, don’t blame yourselves!’

‘Well, I goddamn do!’ Blue Bullet exclaimed. ‘We lost another city to that speedster son of a- we lost Mendoza.’ It was clear he was a solider, even more clear he didn’t like to lose anyone.

The soldiers were busy scanning the remnants of the city, remaining in radio contact, not wanting any outside interference to interrupt the meeting.

Agent Phillips decided to change the sore subject when they reached the transports. ‘What of the new recruits? I hope they came peacefully?’ He asked, stopping to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He had already noticed that the majority of the guns were all pointed at the single transport.

Blue Bullet took the lead, placing himself in front of Phillips. ‘The water manipulator from France put up a fight but decided to surrender, the Samurai came willingly when enough guns were pointed at him.’ The mercenary in blue moved towards the third transport. ‘This one, however, put up a hell of a fight, shrugged off a wave of gun fire and put twelve of our men in medical.’

A loud and sudden bang scared many of the soldiers as they backed off, taking the safety off their guns. The banging continued. Whoever was in that transport was strong, and very angry.

As time pressed on, Phillips made a snap decision.

‘Open them,’ he ordered, throwing his cigarette on the ground. ‘Let’s meet the new recruits for V.I.R.U.S.’