Read Online The Last Hero (Book 1): Ultra by Matt Blake - Free Book Online
Authors: Matt Blake
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body.
I jumped. Jumped to the right as the bullet fired from the gunman’s gun.
I jumped over onto the wall. Ran down the side of it, not really in control of myself, not knowing what I was doing, just that the gunman was firing at me, and I had to stop him.
I jumped off the wall to the right and spun in midair as the gunman looked on, open mouthed. And then I landed right behind him. Pulled back my right fist and punched him. Hard.
He went flying.
Not backward, but upward.
Up onto the top level that I’d just run down from.
And…
Shit. I was back up there with him.
I felt the gunman reach for his gun, which was by his side. I looked at it, my body fully taken over by that tingling sensation, and the gun just flew out of his grip, then snapped in midair.
I looked down at the gunman and saw him start to lurch. Start to struggle to find his words.
I lifted him up. Threw him back against the wall. He stayed there. Stuck there, as I directed that fear, that anger, towards him.
As I looked up at him, the reality of my situation dawned on me. The reality of what was happening. Of why the weird things had been happening to me these entire few days.
I dropped the gunman back to the floor. Tied his hands behind his back, twisting them around one another in a bone-snapping knot.
And I did all of this with my mind. Nothing else.
I looked on, heart racing, feeling stronger than I’d ever felt before. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I didn’t understand how I’d just done what I’d done, why I’d been able to do what I’d just done.
But as the gunman struggled and writhed around, hands knotted behind his back, I knew one thing for certain.
The windows in class smashing.
The movement between cubicles.
The… strength. That was all I could call it. The strength I’d shown to defeat these gunmen.
These weren’t the abilities of a normal person. These weren’t things normal, everyday humans were supposed to be able to do.
These were the abilities of ULTRAs.
So why the hell did I have them?
The thought of having ULTRA abilities punched me in the stomach with its dark realization. ULTRAs were the enemy. They were hated by the masses for the destruction they’d caused, particularly in New York and The Great Blast, as well as the great three-year battle between Orion and Saint. Sure, they’d done good things when they were Heroes. But their intentions, their morals, were always under the microscope.
Besides, ULTRAs didn’t exist anymore. The ULTRAs were gone. The era was a dark footnote in history.
But I had the abilities of an ULTRA.
I thought back to that day. The day of the Great Blast. I always wondered why I hadn’t died. My sister died. Other people in the streets died. And sure, there were many random survivors. But I hadn’t even had a scratch on me.
I’d felt something inside me that day. The same tingling feeling that had been emerging within these last few days whenever I was upset, angry, mad.
I’d felt it, and I started to understand.
There had to be a link.
Something happened on the day of The Great Blast.
Something terrifying happened to me, and it was only just starting to wake up, eight years later.
I walked away from the gunman. Backed off as the sound of sirens filled the outside.
My head spun with the adrenaline. I felt sick with the revelation.
I was an ULTRA.
I was an ULTRA, and there was nothing I could—
I saw the movement in the corner of my eye.
Saw the masked person—another gunman—raise the butt of their gun.
And before I could think to react, they smacked me in the side of my head, and everything went black.
11
I felt the sickness in my stomach. I felt something in my lungs. Heaviness, like I was surrounded by water.
I could hear voices echoing above me. Someone trying to push me down. I wanted to cry because it’s all I could do, all I was capable of.
I saw that I was small. Smaller than I’d thought. Not as strong as I wanted to be.
I jumped. Jumped to the right as the bullet fired from the gunman’s gun.
I jumped over onto the wall. Ran down the side of it, not really in control of myself, not knowing what I was doing, just that the gunman was firing at me, and I had to stop him.
I jumped off the wall to the right and spun in midair as the gunman looked on, open mouthed. And then I landed right behind him. Pulled back my right fist and punched him. Hard.
He went flying.
Not backward, but upward.
Up onto the top level that I’d just run down from.
And…
Shit. I was back up there with him.
I felt the gunman reach for his gun, which was by his side. I looked at it, my body fully taken over by that tingling sensation, and the gun just flew out of his grip, then snapped in midair.
I looked down at the gunman and saw him start to lurch. Start to struggle to find his words.
I lifted him up. Threw him back against the wall. He stayed there. Stuck there, as I directed that fear, that anger, towards him.
As I looked up at him, the reality of my situation dawned on me. The reality of what was happening. Of why the weird things had been happening to me these entire few days.
I dropped the gunman back to the floor. Tied his hands behind his back, twisting them around one another in a bone-snapping knot.
And I did all of this with my mind. Nothing else.
I looked on, heart racing, feeling stronger than I’d ever felt before. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I didn’t understand how I’d just done what I’d done, why I’d been able to do what I’d just done.
But as the gunman struggled and writhed around, hands knotted behind his back, I knew one thing for certain.
The windows in class smashing.
The movement between cubicles.
The… strength. That was all I could call it. The strength I’d shown to defeat these gunmen.
These weren’t the abilities of a normal person. These weren’t things normal, everyday humans were supposed to be able to do.
These were the abilities of ULTRAs.
So why the hell did I have them?
The thought of having ULTRA abilities punched me in the stomach with its dark realization. ULTRAs were the enemy. They were hated by the masses for the destruction they’d caused, particularly in New York and The Great Blast, as well as the great three-year battle between Orion and Saint. Sure, they’d done good things when they were Heroes. But their intentions, their morals, were always under the microscope.
Besides, ULTRAs didn’t exist anymore. The ULTRAs were gone. The era was a dark footnote in history.
But I had the abilities of an ULTRA.
I thought back to that day. The day of the Great Blast. I always wondered why I hadn’t died. My sister died. Other people in the streets died. And sure, there were many random survivors. But I hadn’t even had a scratch on me.
I’d felt something inside me that day. The same tingling feeling that had been emerging within these last few days whenever I was upset, angry, mad.
I’d felt it, and I started to understand.
There had to be a link.
Something happened on the day of The Great Blast.
Something terrifying happened to me, and it was only just starting to wake up, eight years later.
I walked away from the gunman. Backed off as the sound of sirens filled the outside.
My head spun with the adrenaline. I felt sick with the revelation.
I was an ULTRA.
I was an ULTRA, and there was nothing I could—
I saw the movement in the corner of my eye.
Saw the masked person—another gunman—raise the butt of their gun.
And before I could think to react, they smacked me in the side of my head, and everything went black.
11
I felt the sickness in my stomach. I felt something in my lungs. Heaviness, like I was surrounded by water.
I could hear voices echoing above me. Someone trying to push me down. I wanted to cry because it’s all I could do, all I was capable of.
I saw that I was small. Smaller than I’d thought. Not as strong as I wanted to be.
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