Domination (A C.H.A.O.S. Novel) - By Jon Lewis Page 0,15

a field not far from campus.”

The glass canopy above the cockpit opened, and Colt felt a spike in adrenaline as a Thule crawled out of the ship and onto the platform. More Thule rushed out from the tunnels surrounding the field, and Colt genuinely wondered if they were under attack until he saw the wires that connected their arms and the seams where their masks overlapped the rest of their costumes.

“We’ll have a live orchestra for the show, but this is the actual soundtrack,” Captain Starling said as orchestral music blared through the speakers.

Colt watched as the Thule formed a wide circle in the center of the field and started to dance, feet stomping, arms waving, and heads bobbing up and down and back and forth. Their forked tongues bounced against their jagged teeth.

“That’s just weird,” Stacy said.

“It will all make more sense once you understand the entire narrative,” Captain Starling said. “Cadet Salazar?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Is IVAN online?”

“Roger that.”

“Who’s Ivan?” Colt said.

“Launching in three . . .”

“Hello?”

“Two . . .”

“Is somebody going to tell me what’s going on?”

“One!”

A sound like a rocket launching into space filled the sky, and Colt spun to see a red streak flying toward him from the horizon. He hovered in place, confused, until he saw the red Armored Flight Suit with the golden sickle and hammer on its chest. “No way,” he said. “That’s the AFS worn by that Russian guy in The Phantom Flyer #162. What was his name again?”

“Ivan Medvedev,” Stacy said. “Code name, the Crimson Bear.”

“Unfortunately Comrade Medvedev is retired, so I asked Cadet Bowen to take his place,” Captain Starling said as the armor’s eyes pulsed with amber light. “Prepare for evasive action.”

Colt opened up his throttle and shot backward as Pierce tore past him. The AFS was ten feet tall and had to be going at least seventy miles an hour, if not faster.

“I thought that reenacting a scene from one of the Phantom Flyer comic books would be the perfect way to introduce you to the world,” Captain Starling said.

“Incoming!”

Pierce rushed toward him, the red paint of his AFS shining bright beneath the stadium lights. Flames erupted from the thrusters, and he reached out with an enormous armored hand and took Colt by the throat.

“A little . . . help,” Colt said as he struggled to breathe.

“That’s enough,” Captain Starling said, but Pierce didn’t let go. “Cadet Bowen!”

With a flick of his wrist, Pierce tossed Colt to the side. “This is the hero who’s supposed to save us from the Thule? Give me a break.”

: :

CHAPTER 10 : :

Captain Starling ambushed Colt after practice.

“Not bad up there today,” he said. “Not bad at all. Of course, practice went a bit long, so you won’t have time for makeup, but that shouldn’t—”

“Makeup?” Colt asked.

“Trust me, I know. You’re going to look washed out, but there isn’t much we can do about that now. We’re already running late.” Captain Starling took him by the elbow and led him into a room that wasn’t much bigger than a closet.

Colt recognized the reporter from one of the twenty-four-hour news stations, but he couldn’t remember if it was CNN, FOX, or MSNBC. The man was tall and slender, and his skin was an unnatural orange that could no doubt be blamed on the makeup that Captain Starling had been fretting over. He wore a dark suit with a red tie and copious amounts of cologne.

“That’s him?” The cameraman asked the question loudly enough that Colt could hear.

Not that Colt blamed him. He would have expected more too. Superheroes were supposed to be tall and have a commanding personality that oozed confidence.

“What’s going on?” Colt was suddenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t taken a shower, and he was fairly sure that he had forgotten deodorant.

“The first of many interviews,” Captain Starling said, slapping him on the back as though it were good news. “You’ve become a bit of a sensation, but we’re going to make you into a global icon. You’ll be bigger than Elvis, the Beatles, and Michael Jackson combined. Justin Bieber will want your autograph, and Lady Gaga is going to have Phantom Flyer posters hanging in her bedroom.”

After the interview Colt had enough time to gulp down a protein shake before he caught up with the rest of Phantom Squad for a training session in one of the simulator rooms. The advanced hologram tech allowed the staff to run cadets through actual battle scenarios without the threat of death, thanks to