Zap Force #1: Royal Blood

By D.A. Madigan

"If you love Silver Age comics, and what decent person doesn't, Darren Madigan has recreated what you love in 'Zap Force.' It's nostalgic, it moves fast, and you can almost see the colored pages as you read. Tons of fun."

- Daniel Keys Moran, author of EMERALD EYES, THE LONG RUN, and THE LAST DANCER

Welcome to Sparta City, circa 1995, where seven super-powered teenagers fight for their lives and their freedom against covert cabals of ancient, evil immortals who yearn to outfit them all with high tech alien mind control slave collars – or low tech earthly bodybags, whichever works.

Yes, here in Sparta City, it’s the neurotically networked 90s as they never really were, a time and a place when centuries old evildoers scheme, conspire, machinate and manipulate, while teenage superheroes leap, flip in midair, hurl lightning bolts, cast illusions, punch, kick, fly at supersonic speeds, kick ass, take names, and generally blow stuff up real good.

Seven stalwart students at Sparta University, inadvertently given unique and insane ultrapowers by an exotic on-campus psychology experiment gone horribly awry, and now avidly sought after as super-powered slaves by every other secret super society on the planet –

GALLANT, team leader, who at the age of 19 is both selfless and cynical, and whose super-agility and inhumanly unerring aim make him an all but unbeatable hand to hand combatant and absolutely deadly with anything he can throw, especially the hard energy discs and explosive energy globes his alien tech gauntlets generate;

TESLA GIRL, an 18 year old French Canadian hottie who can turn heads with her high voltage beauty and whose electrically supercharged metabolism can generate lightning bolts powerful enough to melt a combat tank into molten slag;

STRAIGHTLACE, the 18 year old diminutive blonde babe with the attitude of a pit bull who can fly faster than a speeding Sidewinder and smash through solid concrete without taking a scratch;

RAMPART, 19 year old African-American star athlete and honor student who can leap tall buildings in a single bound while carrying a Cadillac Seville over his shoulder;

LOBE-O, wheelchair bound 16 year old supergenius with an advanced college placement whose telepathic powers can trace a fleeting thoughtwave through a million muddled mundane minds;

GLAMOUR, a husky Innuit plain Jane psych major whose psychically projected mental illusions seem real enough to leave lipstick marks on a frat boy’s cheek, or boot shaped bruises on a bad guy’s ass;

WARPER, the 19 year old star college quarterback who can open teleportals with his mind, when he’s not charming phone numbers out of any nearby cuties with his All American good looks;

MAINFRAME, the ageless, bodiless former maintenance man who now only exists as a self aware electronic impulse haunting any machine or set of circuitry he cares to inhabit at any given time;

Together they are ZAP FORCE, reluctant heroes fighting to protect an innocent and ignorant global populace, or at least, their own damn selves, from enslavement or death at the hands of the ancient evil immortals who secretly run the world. ZAP FORCE!!

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.A. Madigan
• Release date: Feb 18, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465771896

Book preview

ZAP FORCE: ROYAL BLOOD

D.A. Madigan

Copyright D.A. Madigan 2012

Smashwords Edition

ZAP FORCE #1

ROYAL BLOOD

ANOTHER TIME,

ANOTHER PLACE

Book One: Science Fiction Double Feature

From Rolling Stone, February 14-21, 1995, Zapped!: Gallant of ZAP FORCE Interviewed by M.S. Desmond & Kallie Courhes

ROLLING STONE: So, the one question I have to ask -- exactly why is Zap Force called that? I'd understand it if you all had electrical powers like Tesla Girl, but --

GALLANT: Ah... that was Lobe-o. He reads a lot of comic books... some of us make fun of him for it, actually... he really came up with all the names.

ROLLING STONE: Lobo? I don't think...

GALLANT: Uh... he's got some psionic abilities, but he's not much of an athlete. Tends to stay back at the secret headquarters. Keeps in touch with us telepathically. Better than walkie talkies, really.

ROLLING STONE: So why does he call himself 'Lobo' if he doesn't fight?

GALLANT: Well, that's L-O-B-E dash O... you know, like the lobes of the brain... he makes bad puns. And I guess there's some comic book hero called Lobo that he really likes, too.

ROLLING STONE: Okay, if you say so. But Zap Force?

GALLANT: That was kind of third or fourth down the list... he wanted to call us the Dream Team, which, you know, given how we got our powers, kind of made sense.

ROLLING STONE: But you guys don't like the Michael Keaton flick?

GALLANT: Michael Keaton? Um... wasn't he Batman? No, I thought it sounded too much like a basketball team... I can't remember why the others didn't like it... So then he suggested, like, The Odd Squad, and we all threw things at him... and he came out with Zap Force... I think it was a joke. Most of what Bar -- I mean, Lobe-o, most of what he says is a joke. But Jer... damn it, Rampart, I can't get used to these dumb names... Rampart said yeah, that one's cool, and I didn't care and a couple of the girls wanted to make Lobe-o happy and, well, ah, Warper, right, and Straightlace... they thought the whole thing was stupid but I guess we were sick of them bitching so they got voted down, and it was Zap Force.

ROLLING STONE: And you call yourself 'Z's. As in what cartoon characters do when they sleep.

GALLANT: Uh... well, actually, I think I always kind of more pictured this kind of 'Mark of Zorro' thing... you know, it really just doesn't matter to the rest of us, but Lobe-o gets so into it, we just went along, and then we got used to it. Zap Force. 'Z's. Sure.

ROLLING STONE: So Lobe-o came up with all the names? Yours? Everyone's?

GALLANT: Well... mostly. I guess. Mine, sure; I've got no imagination for stuff like that. Um... Tesla Girl... that was hers. Lobe-o came up with Lady Lightning, which she thought was, you know, too corny.

ROLLING STONE: I take it she's a big OMD fan.

GALLANT: OMD?

ROLLING STONE: Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark... the band that does the song 'Tesla Girls'.

GALLANT: It's a song?

ROLLING STONE: (sighs) But the rest of the names are his? Lobe-o's?

GALLANT: Oh, yeah. Um... well, no. He wanted to call Straightlace 'Bullet Broad' or something... Ms. Missile, something like that. She thought it was stupid, and I think, um, Tesla Girl said something about 'don't be so straightlaced all the time' and you know, that was it. And Mainframe and Warper didn't care, and I think Rampart and Glamour both actually like their names. Kind of. You know, as much as any of us. Well, more, I guess.

ROLLING STONE: Mainframe? Ah... do we have anything on...

GALLANT: (looks uncomfortable) Oh, Mainframe. Well, you probably don't know much about him. He's kind of our scout. His powers make him hard to spot.

ROLLING STONE: So you call him Mainframe? Me am confoozled...

GALLANT: Well, he's good with computers. Um... actually, he never sets foot in the field, so that's why you don't know him.

ROLLING STONE: Ah. Someone to keep Lobo company back at the secret headquarters.

GALLANT: Sure.

ROLLING STONE: All right. Now, Zap Force has appeared in public several times since your first appearance in October of last year... but only on your first appearance were you wearing... you know... costumes. With masks and capes and all... But now, you're here in full superhero gear. Why the sudden -- I don't know -- failure of fashion sense?

GALLANT: Ah. Well, look. The first time we appeared, you know, we were dressed the way Dr. Keppler pictured us... I mean, his mental powers were re-shaping a lot of our local reality, and the costumes were part of it. But, you know, after that battle was over, we decided to stick together but the costumes were kind of... um...

ROLLING STONE: Dorky?

GALLANT: There you go. To be honest, I don't think we ever expected we'd be doing a lot in public. I made kind of a rule; whenever we had to use powers in public, do it fast, stay moving, get out quick, try not to be recognized.

ROLLING STONE: And apparently that's worked for you, although I have to say, I'm a little bit surprised no one has managed to catch you on camera. You've been awfully lucky...

GALLANT: Well, you'd be amazed. Most of this big fight stuff, it's over in a minute, two minutes, tops, and we get outta Dodge. But, yeah. We are lucky, as a team... although most of us feel like it's not much to make up for what Dr. Keppler did to us. I know a lot of people seem to think we're cool, but I don't think any of us want anything more than to just be normal again. I guess that sounds stupid...

ROLLING STONE: Well... I've read the reports of course... I think I'd enjoy being able to move the way you do, or being as strong as Rampart. Or being able to fly like Straightlace, or throw lightning bolts, like Tesla Girl...

GALLANT: Sure. But you don't know. I mean, okay, you asked why I'm wearing this costume for the interview. I mean, we've got closets full of the things. We'll probably wear them a lot more often in public in the future. I mean... they've got masks on them. And you're right, we can't stay lucky forever.

ROLLING STONE: So you're protecting your secret identities?

GALLANT: You think that's funny, but you have no clue. A few of our enemies know who we are, but we hope most don't. And the last thing we need is to have our real names and faces known to everyone on the planet. We're not, like, the cast of Beverly Hills 90210. They worry about obsessed fans stalking them. If their obsessed fans had undead legions and psionic powers and laser cannon up their asses, well... I'll bet Jason Priestly would get plastic surgery, change his name, and move to some island. It's not a joke.

ROLLING STONE: Okay. But what do you say to people who call you the modern version of the Ku Klux Klan... super powered storm troopers, enforcing your own concept of right and wrong, hiding behind hoods and vanishing back into anonymity after you've ripped a million dollars worth of damage in the local real estate? Don't you feel you should take some responsibility for your actions?

GALLANT: That's why I'm here, to answer questions like that. But look... again, none of you have any idea what it's like. We don't spend most of our time on some beach somewhere or hanging out in a Hollywood set. We aren't the Power Rangers. I mean, hell, sometimes we don't even like each other very much. But we have to stick together. And, you know... as long as we have to, when we see something happening... something really bad and weird and that the police or the Army or whatever just isn't going to handle, then we try to help. I mean, that whole thing with Dr. Keppler, we just got pulled into it, but really, if we hadn't stopped him, who was going to? The police? I don't think so. When Cobalt Core took mental control of everyone on campus last month, who was going to stop it? We were here, we had the power, we did what we could do. We almost got killed five or six times, but hey, we beat it and now everyone is cool.

ROLLING STONE: You leveled three buildings in that particular battle; dozens of people were injured; three were killed, and the property damage came to about a million dollars...

GALLANT: Forget the buildings and the property damage; I don't know anyone anywhere who wouldn't trade all of that for the fact that we saved 10,000 people from total slavery to an intelligent military computer... um... I don't know anyone who'd go on the record saying it wasn't worth it, anyway. The people who got hurt and especially the people who died, we're really sorry about that. We didn't hurt them; Cobalt Core had remote control tanks, planes, rocket launchers... Straightlace nearly died getting three people out of one of those buildings before it came down. And what's your alternative? You think we should have just stayed home? 'Oh, well, the evil computer can't control our minds, so let's just chill out and watch Doogie Howser?' What, you think the Senate Armed Forces Committee was going to successfully negotiate with the damn thing?

ROLLING STONE: You make good points, but a lot of people say that it just isn't that simple. But getting back to something you said earlier... you 'had to stick together', even though sometimes you don't even like each other very much. What's that all about? Does Zap Force have an agenda beyond battling super-menaces to preserve life, liberty, and the American Way?

GALLANT: Survival.

ROLLING STONE: So you're like, the X-Men? 'Hated and feared by a world you are sworn to protect'...

GALLANT: Well, we aren't 'sworn to protect' anything; we just, you know, try to help when we can. But we have enemies. People just like us. There are people out there with powers, more than you'd ever want to know about. There always have been, but they keep a real low profile.

ROLLING STONE: Supervillains. Scheming to take over the world.

GALLANT: Oh hell no. They run the world right now. They're scheming to take over us. We don't want to be taken over, but individually, well, none of us are all that powerful. So we stick together. Watch each other's backs. And, you know, some of us are friends, too. But mostly, we just need each other. Or else we all end up with psion-particle powered collars on our necks working for some thousand year old super-creep.

ROLLING STONE: I see. Well, in that case, I just want our invisible overlords to know, I can be bought. Cheap. But enough of that; let's not be depressing. Give me the dish on who's dating who in the team...

Jeremy Farris was three-quarters of the way across the stadium parking lot when Barley's voice screamed Ambush! in his brain. Without hesitation Jeremy dropped the backpack he was carrying slung over one shoulder, to free his hands, while simultaneously springing backwards. The leap was a powerful one, carrying his 245 densely muscled pounds fifteen yards away from the stadium entrance he'd been walking towards. As his feet came back into contact with the ground, Jeremy kicked off again; this jump put him on the other side of Rt. 56, all four lanes of it, staring at Kirby Field House from just inside Oakhill Cemetary.

He didn't see anything, and for a moment, he fumed - if Barley was screwing around with his head as a joke, it wasn't funny, and all the 'readiness test' excuses in the world weren't going to keep him from dumping the little creep out of his wheelchair and then putting that wheelchair somewhere he'd have a hard time extracting it from - say, the roof of Dawne Hall, which was 22 stories high...

Then three bulky shadows detached themselves from the ranks of parked cars on either side of Jeremy's previous position and bounded forward, moving with the easy physical power of mountain gibbons, but sniffing the ground like greyhounds. Jeremy had seen that combination of primate strength and canine senses before; he knew that, beneath the badly fitting raincoats, those three figures would have short black fur covering dense, nearly indestructible muscle, while beneath their pulled down heavily brimmed athletic caps would be vaguely canine features made hideous by two smooth, unbroken expanses of fur where eyes should have been.

Wargs, Jeremy realized. Oh, damn... we didn't think the Samedis would be after us again anything like this quick.

Keep away from 'em, came Barley's high pitched voice again, echoing only in Jeremy's mind. The cavalry is on the way.

That's a big ten four, Jeremy subvocalized sarcastically, not knowing if Barley could pick up his reply, and not much caring. As if he'd engage the genetic constructs on his own, when he was both outnumbered and ignorant of what particular special abilities, if any, his opponents might possess. The Samedis were perfectly capable of turning out vat-produced synthezoids with a wide range of paranormal abilities in addition to the inhuman strength, speed, and perceptions the genetically engineered goons 'naturally' possessed. Wading in like a berserker was something Jason had been prone to, not him. Of course, Barley was doubtless just passing along Albert's orders; since Jason had gone missing, Albert had been pretty on edge about unnecessary risks. Okay, Jeremy would avoid contact until reinforcements showed up... something that shouldn't be hard, since the Wargs couldn't see him, and his two jumps hadn't left much of a scent-trail on the ground for them to follow.

There was a slight crackling sound behind him; the kind that might be made, say, if a stealthy attacker were creeping up on his blind side through dead autumn leaves. Jeremy's mistake was whirling around to confront whoever or whatever it was, and it was a natural error to make - Jeremy was the strong one; he could broad jump three miles if he had to (although he did tend to kick a helluva crater in the ground when he took off and smash an even bigger hole in whatever surface he landed on, so it wasn't encouraged on campus or even inside urban areas), he could straight-arm a fifteen ton fully loaded railroad car up over his head and, assuming he had a good grip on it, lob it like a football (Barley said that proved that their powers were all psionic in nature; if Jeremy's strength hadn't been basically telekinetic, he'd never have the leverage to pick up something that massed 300 times more than his own body weight), he could break a steel girder in two with a punch, or bend it into any of the more basic English letters with a good two handed grip. On top of all that, not only did bullets bounce off him, but so did grenade blasts and long range mortar shells. Chances were, whatever was sneaking up behind him was nothing he couldn't handle - and if it was, he'd jump right over it. So instead of jumping away immediately, Jeremy whirled around, his big athlete's hands spread to grab - and there she was.

Baroness, he said, for that was what they called her - her husband was 'Baron Samedi', she was 'the Baroness' - a middle aged black woman, her hair in a bun, roly poly, with a pleasant smile, an impressive maternal shelf of a chest, a big broad butt that looked capable of withstanding hurricane winds, and short, thick legs. She was wearing a brown turtleneck sweater, brown slacks with thin black vertical stripes, a black shiny vest with big gold shiny buttons hanging loose beneath her arms, and a bulky black leather purse securely strapped to one shoulder - the last time they'd encountered her, she'd had little hand sewn dolls of him and the other Zs in there. Barley had broken the psionic link they'd used to gain control over the team then; this time, it looked as if she were relying on a