Invincible

By Lee Newey

An ordinary boy with a loving mother and a violent, alcoholic father. A life of escapism comes in the form of a real life superhero. Now an obsessed adult, Clay goes on a quest to find Invincible who once saved him from a watery grave. But all is not what it seems...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Newey
• Release date: Dec 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311005427

Lee Newey

Thank you for checking me out, my name is Lee Newey I grew up in a mining village called Maltby in the Rotherham area. One of eight kids . My world revolved around films and comics, as I grew up the interest deepened.. I have had the privilege to see the hero's I read about appear on the big screen brought to life by todays outstanding technology.I married my childhood sweetheart Julie in 1987 and we live at home with our five house rabbits and Tia our Boston Terrier. Invincible was a idea I had back in the early nineties..i never really did anything about it and spent two years writing a book I hated and shelved. Julie told me to write what I would like to read and so after some stops ( many of them ) and starts I eventually through the encouragement of my wife ..well you have what you see today.Thank you for stopping by and reading about me it is so appreciated.

Book preview

Invincible

by

Lee Newey

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

This electronic edition 2015

1

First Published in Great Britain by Slaverin Dog Publications

Copyrights @ Lee Newey 2014

Artwork by Jen Emery Jamieson

Edited by Anna Cameron

Lee Newey asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

This book is sold subject to the condition that is shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that it which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

For my mother, Margaret Newey,

and my wife, Julie.

Thank you for always believing in me.

Lee

Acknowledgements

This book would not be possible if it were not for the tireless efforts of my wife, Julie, who turned my confusing scribble into type.

Thank you for your patience, advice and honesty.

Julie, what I lost you gave back a million fold!

To the very talented Jen Emery Jamieson, who helped me put

my idea into a book jacket, one to be proud of.

Thank you for your help, you are a star.

To Anna Cameron, who edited my work and corrected

my grammar and spelling – thank you.

Synopsis

An ordinary boy with a loving mother and a violent, alcoholic father.

A life of escapism comes in the form of a real life superhero. Now an obsessed adult, Clay goes on a quest to find Invincible who once saved him from a watery grave.

But all is not what it seems…

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

The studio was filled with an air of excitement and anticipation. Cameras were put through their final checks, studio crew hurried to their places. The studio audience mumbled, coughed and found their seats. Lights illuminated the set and Witt Williams sat patiently as the makeup artist eradicated the shine on his skin.

Witt Williams was a veteran of television whose career started in radio in the early 1960s. In 1977 Witt became a national broadcaster and then in 1987 he began hosting his nightly interview TV programme. Over the years he had been married twice and suffered a heart attack in 2001. One bypass and another marriage later, he was back to doing what he loved best. Today this silver-haired, tanned, smooth-talking man showed no signs of letting up. His award-winning show was consistently in the top ratings.

All right, Witt, the director said into his microphone. You are on in five…

Witt touched his earpiece and nodded.

The makeup artist took away the Kleenex from his collar, You’re good to go, Witt.

Thank you, Sally, he said, flashing a smile of white symmetrical teeth. Clearing his throat and smoothing back his hair, Witt then adjusted his tie, feeling comfortable that he was ready for his audience.

Four..., the director called. Everyone to their places, please.

Three, two...

Witt turned to the lens of Camera One, waiting for his cue.

One, and cue intro. The director pointed to a colleague who shared the suite. Colourful graphics and a catchy tune that had been revamped over the years gave way to a smiling Witt Williams.

Hello, Witt said his voice as smooth as honey. Welcome to ’Tonight’, with me, your host, Witt Williams.

The studio audience clapped enthusiastically.

Witt turned to Camera Two as the clapping and occasional whistling died down.

My guest tonight is Commissioner Patrick Ward of the Westford City Police Department.

A small red light popped on Camera Three, its lens framing a sweating Commissioner Ward. The Commissioner sat in his dress uniform, adorned with medals for acts of bravery and achievement throughout his career from a rookie to the Commissioner’s role, which he had taken over eighteen months previously. His cap, with its glittering badge, sat on the glass table next to him like a trophy.

Commissioner Ward was hesitant to appear on the show. He knew Witt’s reputation and had seen many careers exalted or destroyed in front of its cameras.

A call from the studio researchers had promised him a platform to tell his side of the story regarding recent events. Commissioner Ward had failed in his press conference a few weeks earlier to calm the storm of anger and protests towards himself and his department. It was cut short when fighting broke out against protestors and police.

Looking beyond the lights to the studio audience, he hoped he could give his answers to the people of America in a more controlled and calm environment, and thus bring about the beginning of rebuilding trust in him and the police department once again. As he sat fidgeting under the heat of the studio lights, Commissioner Ward knew he had to be on the ball. Witt was a cunning host, a smiling assassin, a shark drifting in the blue waters ready to strike at any time. Ward was nervous; a lot was riding on this interview… his career for one thing.

Commissioner Ward, Witt began. Let me first of all say thank you for appearing on the show.

Thank you for having me on your show, the Commissioner quickly interjected.

Witt continued. I realise that this is a difficult time in your career as Commissioner.

Ward smiled tightly and nodded numbly. Did he hear a hint of sarcasm in Witt’s voice?

I’m going to start with a statement you gave the people of Westford City, eighteen months ago, when you took over as Commissioner. It concerns the rise of vigilante activity. As you know, it was dubbed by the press as ’The Eradication Speech’. Witt gently cleared his throat, I quote. His pale eyes fell to the paper he was holding. Anyone who bestows upon themselves the mantle of vigilante acts outside the law will not be tolerated. There is no room for such law breakers…

May I just say..? the Commissioner interrupted. He didn’t want Witt to start the interview with the speech that had earned him much criticism and ridicule.

Please, Commissioner, let me finish, Witt said sternly and quickly carried on reading aloud. There is no such room for such lawbreakers, and I, as your new Commissioner, am putting a task force together, dedicated to bringing an end to the reign of any self-styled hero, end quote. Witt’s eyes lifted from the sheet of paper and rested upon his guest.

The studio lights seemed very hot and the Commissioner tried to wink away a droplet of sweat that was stinging his right eye. He pursed his lips and steepled his fingers in thought, not wanting to answer hastily, because he knew that what he said had to carry weight. He did not want to leave Witt with any room to play on his words.

Now, since giving that speech, would you say that you stepped up to the plate and delivered what you promised that day? Witt sat back waiting for the Commissioner to answer.

In… in answer to your question, Mr Williams...

Witt, please call me Witt.

The Commissioner nodded. In answer to your question, I believe my taskforce and I have worked hard and delivered good results. We are at a 62% success rate in cleaning up the streets of vigilantes.

Witt came back. With all due respect, Commissioner, you gave that rousing speech some eighteen months ago. I understand that your department are burning through money, and the costs for your special task force are spiralling out of control.

The Commissioner shuffled uncomfortably, took a small breath to calm his nerves and spoke. I don’t agree! The statistics are plain to see. Your information is flawed! Since I took the job as Commissioner, we have seen a drop in crime and in self-styled heroes walking the streets.

And money? Witt asked, glancing at his sheets. Do you then believe that we, the good American people, who pay our taxes, have got a bang for our buck?

The audience clapped wildly. Witt lifted his hand like a Roman Emperor to calm the clapping.

Yes, I do.

Then why are we seeing our city overrun with men, women and sometimes kids, dressing in tights and capes, brandishing their own style of justice?

To catch a vigilante you either come across them in the streets, or you do detective work, surveillance, information-gathering, etc, before you can arrest them, and it takes time and resources.

As if the real freaks were not enough to contend with, we now have people dressed up as superheroes panhandling in the streets near Sykes Theatre.

The Commissioner waited for Witt to continue.

They walk around harassing tourists to take photographs of them and pay for the privilege.

Commissioner Ward adjusted himself in his chair.

Sykes is policed. We have a unit who keep an eye on the look-a-likes and make sure they follow the rules laid down by the theatre and surrounding stores.

Would you say it’s policed well?

Yes, I’d like to think so.

Then how did a tourist from Canada, by the name of Timothy Westmire, get badly beaten by a man dressed as the Spider?

Commissioner Ward started to answer but Witt cut him off.

Apparently, the man dressed as the Spider, Greg Peterson, was harassing Mr Westmire for a picture with his young son and, after some persuading, the boy had his picture taken but his father refused to pay… leading to an argument.

Commissioner Ward sat looking at this man who appeared gentle and elderly, but underneath was like an axe-murderer, ready to strike. Commissioner Ward made up his mind - he hated the guy opposite him who seemed to have all the cards stacked in his favour. Meanwhile Witt’s voice continued to grate like the whining of a drill.

It ended up with Mr Westmire receiving hospital treatment. Now I don’t know about you, Commissioner, - Witt turned to look at the audience with his back to the Commissioner - but I would not call that policed.

The audience clapped and cheered.

Mr Peterson was arrested and jailed for a time, and Mr Westmire, I believe, is suing for his medical bills, pain, suffering and loss of employment etc. After an evaluation, it was found that Mr Westmire had also suffered some mental health issues as a result of the incident.

The incident was very unfortunate, but it was defused as soon as it came to our attention. It is only the third incident we have had with a look-a-like in five years.

Would you say your men are… ill-equipped to deal even with the look-a-likes?

No! The Commissioner’s answer carried a definite note to it.

An audience member stood. We want justice for the Tyler family!

The Commissioner looked out into the darkness of the audience.

Another audience member, a woman, came to her feet. Joan Richardson is fighting for her life in hospital - What do you have to say about that, Commissioner Ward?

Security filtered among the audience to quieten the people down.

No more deaths of innocent people! someone shouted.

The Commissioner was uncomfortable; he fed his finger into his starched white collar and tugged it away from his neck. Sweat trickled down his spine.

The audience became silent.

As you have just heard, Commissioner, people are not happy with the recent events. After all, five innocent people were killed when a lunatic calling himself the Avenger tried to stop a store robbery in downtown Henson Street. This, as you well know, turned out to be a shoot-out with five dead and three injured. It resulted in two of the robbers getting away and one being shot dead, and then the public got caught in the cross fire. This is not policing, Commissioner, it’s like, and I quote from a reporter, ‘It’s like the Wild West where weapons are used and life is cheap.’

Commissioner Ward saw in his peripheral vision the red light pop on the camera nearest to him, and he knew that this was his time; the eyes of America were upon him. His microphone picked up a long laboured sigh; it seemed the world had stopped; seconds ticked by and the silence seemed to suffocate him.

An African-American woman came clambering through the audience, heading for the studio floor. She was clutching a photograph of her dead daughter and shouting something through her tears.

The Director spoke into the microphone, We are going to a commercial break. Where is the security?

The security scrambled past people to stop the woman.

Witt turned to the nearest camera. Don’t go away, we will be back right after the commercial break.

Jesus H Christ, Williams, what the hell are you doing? the Commissioner seethed. Have you brought the families of the deceased in here? You son of a bitch!

The makeup girls ran onto the studio floor to re-apply touches of makeup that had been sweated away.

Witt picked up a glass of water and took a sip. What’s the problem? he asked smoothly.

You’re crucifying me and you know it!

That’s a little strong, Witt said, his finger tracing the edge of the glass.

You’ve set me up.

The girl dabbed away sweat from the Commissioner’s face; he was irritated by the intrusion but said nothing.

When the last commercial had told countless Americans that they needed the latest gadget to enhance their lives, it gave way to the giant of talk, Williams.

Welcome back, I’m Witt Williams, and you are watching ‘Tonight’. My guest tonight is Commissioner Patrick Ward of Westford City Police. The camera showed the Commissioner who smiled, covering a multitude of emotions.

Commissioner Ward, before the break you were going to tell us your thoughts on the recent killings surrounding the vigilante, Avenger.

The Commissioner licked his lips, his throat feeling dry and scratchy. He turned to the camera that was on him, and looked deep into the lens, giving his best solemn face. On behalf of myself and the Westford City Police Department, let me say how truly sorry we are to those families who have lost loved ones in the events of the last week. We are doing all we can to bring this individual who calls himself the Avenger to justice, together with the two robbers who escaped.

A nice text-book answer, Commissioner, Witt smirked, raising an eyebrow and glancing at the audience, who gave him their support.

The Commissioner flushed with anger as some people in the audience clapped and others laughed. The Commissioner’s hands gripped his seat, his knuckles popping white. He could feel adrenaline running through his veins, and he was shaking with rage towards his interviewer. What he had said had been broken down, stamped out and ground to dust by Witt Williams with just a few words. The Commissioner moved his head from side to side trying to dissipate the tension growing in his neck.

The audience exploded into applause, as Witt waited.

Commissioner Ward began to speak but his voice was drowned out by the clapping. When it had calmed down, he continued. Most vigilantes carry weapons - guns, armour-piercing rounds, knives, tazers, stun grenades, the list is endless. You... you...simply can’t walk up to them, Mr Williams, and slap on a pair of handcuffs! Commissioner Ward was trembling with rage, spittle flying from his mouth, his eyes bulging and his hand visibly clenched into a fist. As for those who are real superheroes, endowed with real powers beyond… our... our... mortal capabilities, well, you almost need the army to bring them in! You have got to bear in mind, Witt, that not every hero is a villain. Over the years there have been real superheroes possessing superhuman strength who have helped the city in dire circumstances. Crime rates dropped and…

Witt interrupted. "You cannot rely on spandex-clad individuals to clean up the streets for you, Commissioner. I mean, if that’s