Read Online The Invincibles by Michael McNichols - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael McNichols
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off somewhere and stored. Hyperman super-sped over to each satellite camera, but met the same result every time, no matter how quick he was. Frustrated, he clenched his fists hard enough to turn coal into diamond. His eyes flashed hurtful nuclear blue, and the satellites all fell, streaking comet-like fire toward the nearest world. He blazed back across the Milky Way.
***
The heart of New Daedalus lay upon a small island off the East Coast, but the city spread onto the mainland and a few other isles, connected by long, sweeping bridges. Clean white skyscrapers thrust up to dizzying heights. Quaint, expensive homes lined the streets. Clover-shaped parks dotted the bustling landscape. Highways arced up and over each other, crisscrossing around through the city’s boroughs. Monorails swooped along beside them.
The city itself buzzed with a vibrant, electric spirit no other place could match. Hyperman felt it tingling against his invulnerable skin as he flew high above the skyline. He swept down to the glitzy green-glassed MorsWorld Building. One enormous office took up the entire top floor. Finding the balcony window open, he floated on in.
Soft, blue Persian rugs covered the marble floor. Busts of Alexander the Great, Plato, Julius Caesar, Nikola Tesla, and Leonardo Di Vinci sat mounted in displays along the glossy blue walls. “Break On Through (to the Other Side)” by the Doors softly played out of expensive speakers.
A circular desk anchored the middle of the room. Holographic display screens hovered all around the office with up-to-the-minute global news and stock market information flickering across them. Plaques, awards, and framed newspaper clippings all celebrating MorsWorld’s achievements hung everywhere. Even Hyperman had to admit the company had done a lot to help the world. MorsWorld had too many achievements to name, but the Mark Sixteen Monorail that ran on sound, the aspirin that cured hangovers, and the first-ever successful brain transplant were all going into the history books.
At the back of the office, humming softly to himself, Alexander Mors fixed himself a rum and coke. He turned casually around and blinked at the sight of Hyperman. “Ah, hello, Hyperman,” he placidly said. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He sipped his drink and gestured toward his mini-bar. “Care for anything?” he asked.
“ No, thank you,” Hyperman said, crossing his arms and glaring harshly. That look alone would terrify most villains into pissing themselves and fleeing. Mors, however, regarded it with a cool nod.
“ Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he said with a hint of a Greek accent. “Now how can I help you?”
Mors boasted a sharp, svelte figure with acidic blue eyes. His long, greasy black hair curled down into a tightly bound ponytail. Stubble cropped up on his chin and complemented his dark-tanned skin. The collar of a gawky, blue shirt flared open and a gray undershirt showed beneath. Baggy black pants bunched down over his worn blue tennis shoes.
Thirty-five years ago, he’d been born during a meteor shower outside of Athena City. Hyperman had saved his parents from a crashing meteorite and even helped with the delivery when it started minutes later. Unfortunately, the interstellar radiation had mutated Mors’s young infant brain. Even now, Hyperman saw the tumor squeezing against Mors’s skull. However, instead of killing him, it had phenomenally increased his intelligence.
Using his ultra-advanced IQ, Mors had built an intimidating fortune and his own international corporation while just a boy. He had only become more successful since. MorsWorld designed technological marvels for common use, including gadget phones, cars, computers, pharmaceuticals, medical equipment, and more. The company also created weapons for militaries, governments, and private individuals. Wormhole guns, teleporting bombs, toxic gases, and underwater battle armor; the list went on and on.
For the
***
The heart of New Daedalus lay upon a small island off the East Coast, but the city spread onto the mainland and a few other isles, connected by long, sweeping bridges. Clean white skyscrapers thrust up to dizzying heights. Quaint, expensive homes lined the streets. Clover-shaped parks dotted the bustling landscape. Highways arced up and over each other, crisscrossing around through the city’s boroughs. Monorails swooped along beside them.
The city itself buzzed with a vibrant, electric spirit no other place could match. Hyperman felt it tingling against his invulnerable skin as he flew high above the skyline. He swept down to the glitzy green-glassed MorsWorld Building. One enormous office took up the entire top floor. Finding the balcony window open, he floated on in.
Soft, blue Persian rugs covered the marble floor. Busts of Alexander the Great, Plato, Julius Caesar, Nikola Tesla, and Leonardo Di Vinci sat mounted in displays along the glossy blue walls. “Break On Through (to the Other Side)” by the Doors softly played out of expensive speakers.
A circular desk anchored the middle of the room. Holographic display screens hovered all around the office with up-to-the-minute global news and stock market information flickering across them. Plaques, awards, and framed newspaper clippings all celebrating MorsWorld’s achievements hung everywhere. Even Hyperman had to admit the company had done a lot to help the world. MorsWorld had too many achievements to name, but the Mark Sixteen Monorail that ran on sound, the aspirin that cured hangovers, and the first-ever successful brain transplant were all going into the history books.
At the back of the office, humming softly to himself, Alexander Mors fixed himself a rum and coke. He turned casually around and blinked at the sight of Hyperman. “Ah, hello, Hyperman,” he placidly said. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He sipped his drink and gestured toward his mini-bar. “Care for anything?” he asked.
“ No, thank you,” Hyperman said, crossing his arms and glaring harshly. That look alone would terrify most villains into pissing themselves and fleeing. Mors, however, regarded it with a cool nod.
“ Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he said with a hint of a Greek accent. “Now how can I help you?”
Mors boasted a sharp, svelte figure with acidic blue eyes. His long, greasy black hair curled down into a tightly bound ponytail. Stubble cropped up on his chin and complemented his dark-tanned skin. The collar of a gawky, blue shirt flared open and a gray undershirt showed beneath. Baggy black pants bunched down over his worn blue tennis shoes.
Thirty-five years ago, he’d been born during a meteor shower outside of Athena City. Hyperman had saved his parents from a crashing meteorite and even helped with the delivery when it started minutes later. Unfortunately, the interstellar radiation had mutated Mors’s young infant brain. Even now, Hyperman saw the tumor squeezing against Mors’s skull. However, instead of killing him, it had phenomenally increased his intelligence.
Using his ultra-advanced IQ, Mors had built an intimidating fortune and his own international corporation while just a boy. He had only become more successful since. MorsWorld designed technological marvels for common use, including gadget phones, cars, computers, pharmaceuticals, medical equipment, and more. The company also created weapons for militaries, governments, and private individuals. Wormhole guns, teleporting bombs, toxic gases, and underwater battle armor; the list went on and on.
For the
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