Prologue

Hero's Call: Prologue

Seven was roused from his slumber by a summons from The Council. It was not what a human of Earth would typically think of as sleep. It was more of a relaxation period, but it’s close to what a human would consider ‘sleeping’. If an Earthling were to witness Acolyte Seven or one of his people during that relaxation period you would find closed eyes and motionless bodies, but what humans consider REM sleep is nonexistent. The An’Fari, known as The Great Race on Earth, did not dream. Their bodies did not require true sleep as humans think of it. They had evolved past such frivolity.

There was to be an Assembly. To Seven’s knowledge, there hadn’t been an Assembly in twenty-two aeons. Over two hundred years in human reckoning. Quite a long time, but the An’Fari had no reason to track time. The last time they had an Assembly it was after the death of some of Earth’s greatest heroes: The Gray Ghost and Cat’s Claw, Weather Wizard and Melinda the Magician, Thunder Bolt, The Marvelous Maiden, and Empress Liana. Seven of the eight members of the Army of Justice all killed in one battle with The Dreadnaught. The Assembly was called to discuss what was to be done about the Dreadnaught, a vicious Earth Villain hell-bent on the destruction of the entire human race without thought to the consequences. After the Heroes were destroyed, all hoped seemed lost for Earth. It was decided that the Dreadnaught be banished to an alternate dimension to spend the rest of his life in solitude.

Seven moved across his chambers to the compartment where he kept his ceremonial garments. He pressed the button beside the door and the clothes slowly shuffled by with a quiet, metallic whirl. He let go of the button when the robes of green and white came to the front. They were his Assembly Robes. They were made of a clean, soft material similar to human silk. The majority of the robe was a deep green like the leaves on the trees that are so prevalent on Earth. A pale white V-stripe came down from each shoulder to the middle of the chest and back.

A series of what humans would crassly call ‘squiggly lines’, were placed in the middle of the V. The symbols were the language of the An’Fari. For those who could read them, they signified him as nothing more than the Acolyte he was. Acolyte Seven to be exact, nearing the end of his journey into becoming a full-fledged member of The Council. He started as a member of a lesser Council, but it would only be a matter of time before The Council itself will be heeding his sagely advice.

He slid the robe on. The material was soft against the diaphanous material that was his skin. An’Fari skin was balanced somewhere between water and the gelatinous substance the people of Earth call Jell-O. It’s solid to the touch, but, to look at, it appeared to be completely liquid. When Seven’s people first landed on Earth they were called Water Men in the natives’ tongue. He could no longer remember the words they used.

The Ancient Egyptians were terrified of them. He remembered it well. He had just started his Acolyte training when they made contact. They came to Earth and passed on the Hero Gene, a gene giving any living thing it inhabits powers above any other in their species. Acolyte Seven remember how amused he had been when he learned that there was a theory on Earth that extraterrestrials had built the pyramids. A fellow Acolyte had joked that they did not build the pyramids, they simply lent a hand. In the end, it was merely a single man imbued with the Hero Gene. He was the first Hero of Earth. The Pharaoh he was called.

He did many great things back then, but the most notable of his achievements was simply the passing on the Hero Gene to his descendants. All Heroes and Villains that have walked among Earth’s population would be able to trace their roots back to Ancient Egypt and The Pharaoh if they had cared to do a little genealogy. Humans, always the short sighted creatures, would never care enough to dig that deep. Acolyte Seven guessed that few records remained on Earth that would help them find that information anyway.

Seven stepped out of his chambers into a long metallic hallway. It gleamed, glistened, but did not reflect. At the end of the hall he took a right followed by two lefts, and then a long curving corridor to the right. He passed no one.

The doors to the Council Hall were closed as usual. A small, round camera resembling a large human eye came out of the wall on a long metallic arm. It scanned his body up and down with a pulsing red light.

“Identify,” a steely computerized voice said.

“Acolyte Seven,” he replied indifferently.

There was a series of beeps and clicks, and the camera slid smoothly back into the wall. The doors to the Council Hall slid open with absolute silence.

Inside there were a massive number of rows spread out in front of him. Each row filled with seats, each seat filled with a body in the same robes as Seven. The only difference was the symbols on their chest. He walked past the seemingly endless rows of his fellow species. As he walked he could feel eyes follow him up the aisle. All of his people in the rows behind him were striving to be in his position or higher. Starting at the back of the Hall, they were organized by their current position in the Acolyte pedagogy. Most of them would never make it as far as him. Many of them wouldn’t even make it past halfway.

As he approached the front of the Hall the rows decreased in size. If one was to look down from above, the rows would look like great pyramids, each tip ending in a circle around The Council dais itself. He came to his row and sat down next to another Acolyte.

“Acolyte Seven,” he said with a nod of recognition as Seven took his place.

“Six,” Seven said in reply.                       

Seven turned in his seat and faced forward, sitting in silence. Less than a second later, a door on the side of the chamber opened. The seven members of The Council filed in one by one and took their seats, each of them wearing a robe similar to Seven’s, only red and black as opposed to his green and white.

They took a moment to read the Charter for the Advancement of Lesser Races, which is customary at the beginning of each Assembly. The Charter describes the basic goals of their race in their attempt at providing the Hero Gene to promote intergalactic peace. The overall aim was to dispense the Hero Gene to lesser races, creating Heroes to police their world’s population and eventually bring peace to every world in the universe. A lofty goal, but a noble one.

When the Charter was read, the Council Member on the far left end of the Great Dais rose from his seat.

“You have been brought here today to bear witness to testimony given by one of Earth’s Heroes,” the Councilman said. “He claims that his statement is of the utmost importance, and implores The Council to hear his words. Please allow our guest to enter.”

A door on the opposite side of the room from which The Council entered slid open and a man entered. He was wearing a baby blue jumpsuit with white shoulder pads, gloves, boots, and belt. A stark white cape flowed out behind him as he strode seriously across the hall. Under his left arm he carried his specially designed helmet, which was also white. The helmet was designed to keep unfriendly psychic attacks out. Instead of the helmet, on top of his head grew a thick patch of wavy blond hair he’d kept immaculately prepped and neat. On his chest was his emblem: the human symbol for male with an all seeing eye in the center of its circle.

His name was Mesmero. He was a great Hero of Earth, as well as a longtime partner of Captain Amazing. His psychic abilities have far overshadowed those of any of his psychic predecessors. Some say he has seen far into the future, but refuses to speak of what he’s seen, saying that it is folly for man to know his future.

He sat down in the chair provided him, giving his cape an unnecessary flourish to land behind the chair.

“Welcome, Mesmero,” The Council Member on the end said, and returned to his seat.

“I am most humbled to be allowed in the Great Hall of the Elders,” Mesmero said genuinely. His voice was solid, almost impossible to read. “It is an auspicious event that my eyes fall on this most sacred place while I bear great tidings.”

“Good tidings are most welcome to The Council’s ears,” the first Council Member on the right said. “We were afraid, with the urgency you begged to be heard, you were to bring ill tidings.”

“The Council is aware, I’m sure, of the Dreadnaught Virus,” Mesmero said, a tint of sadness in his voice, “the deplorable virus that is destroying the Hero Gene, making it unable to pass from generation to generation.”

“We are aware of the virus,” the fourth Council Member said solemnly, “have you brought news of who created it or possibly a cure?”

“Unfortunately, I do not,” Mesmero said bitterly. “We are no closer to finding the answers to those questions than we were when we first heard of the virus. They lie as blurred images to my mind’s eye.”

“Then what news of the virus did you bring us?” the sixth Council Member asked.

“I have gazed deeply into the future,” Mesmero said, standing from his seat and started to pace. “Many things were unclear to me, but one thing was definite. A most desolate, unhappy future lies ahead for Earth. The Dreadnaught Virus will span generations, and the Earth will be in turmoil. Wars will break out across the globe and Villains that were long forgotten will return to wreak havoc.”

“These are tidings of the illest sort, Mesmero,” the second Council Member said, “I eagerly await the good tidings you spoke of.”

“They are terrible, that’s true,” Mesmero spoke softly, “but out of the darkness there comes a ray of light. I know not when it will be, and many years of hardship are ahead of us. But out of the dark, sad days a Hero will rise again.”