Not-So-Fortunate Son

By Robert Jeschonek

In Isosceles City, where super-heroes and villains run amok, one man follows a trail of superhuman annihilation. Tormented by his own dark past, the hero called Pluribus watches costumed warriors drop like flies. The son of a self-styled super-god, Pluribus alone might hold the key to ending the killing. But the dark force hounding the superhumans might have its roots in Pluribus' own heart. Can this hero with the power of an army stand against a force of unstoppable bloodlust? If not, every superhuman in Isosceles City, and the city itself, is doomed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Jeschonek
• Release date: Oct 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386680352

Book preview

Not-So-Fortunate Son

Not-So-Fortunate Son

A SUPERHERO TALE

ROBERT JESCHONEK

Blastoff Books

Contents

Also by Robert Jeschonek

Not-So-Fortunate Son

About the Author

Special Preview: Forced Partnership

NOT-SO-FORTUNATE SON

Copyright © 2023 by Robert Jeschonek

www.thefictioneer.com

Cover Art Copyright © 2023 by stokkete

Courtesy of DepositPhotos.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved by the author.

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Published by Blastoff Books

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Johnstown, Pennsylvania 15904

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Forced Betrayal

Forced Retirement

Forced Partnership

Heroes of Global Warming

Not-So-Fortunate Son

Seven Comic Book Scripts Volume One

Seven Comic Book Scripts Volume Two

Seven Comic Book Scripts Volume Three

Six Superhero Stories Volume One

The Wife Who Never Was

Not-So-Fortunate Son

Here! Catch! Bunker Buster, with his purple paisley skin and torn green shorts, laughs as he tosses the tractor trailer effortlessly in my direction. "All yours, Short Bus!"

Pluribus! The name is Pluribus! That's what I'd say if I had more than a split-second before the truck hits...which I don't. I don't have Bunker Buster's strength level, either, so I do the usual--multiply like crazy.

Closing my eyes, I stretch my arms wide and tap into my power, whipping up dozens of duplicate selves to quickly fill the tractor trailer's landing zone. When the truck comes down, we all raise up our hands and catch it, spreading the impact among all those arms and bodies so it lands harmlessly.

Normally, Bunker Buster would follow up with some smart aleck remark, but he doesn't. The hyper-muscled testosterone farm is too busy fending off the latest squadron of sky-piranhas dispatched by Sticky Wicket.

Gents, we shouldn't be fighting, Sticky declares in his posh English accent, even as he finishes bashing in the unbreakable windshield of an armored car with a massive-headed croquet mallet. We should all be on the same side, don'cha know!

"I'm not on anybody's side, Stick Figure! Bunker Buster crushes a sky-ranha between two massive hands and swats another halfway to Poughkeepsie. I'm out for Number One, and that ain't either of you!"

Suit yourself. Sticky deflects the gunfire of the driver with his mallet, then flings a needle-tipped metal wicket into the man's chest. With the driver dispatched, he operated controls on the dashboard, making the back doors pop open as if by magic. "That's one fewer compatriot who'll need a share of all this cash."

As my mob of doubles charges toward the armored car, Sticky leaps free of the window and skedaddles around the back like his butt is on fire. En route, he pitches more wickets behind him, puncturing one of my clones at the head of the pack. When the lead runner drops, others trample over him--at least until I focus my power and make the first grouping disappear.

Just as Wicket rounds the back of the truck, a big helicopter whips in from the distance. What looks like a huge metal ring hangs suspended from a rig mounted on the bottom of the copter, ready to pick