by Joe Mosher
Published November 2014
ISBN: 978-1-4835-4288-1
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Chapter One
Evil came to Red Cloak Island in the darkest hour of the night, in a military-style stealth helicopter … just like the good guys did. There was no other way.
The black helicopter flew low over the waves, spraying water in all directions with its massive rotor blades. It had no windows and no pilot. All of its lights were turned off. In the midnight darkness, it was nearly invisible. Not that there was anybody around to see it, anyway. This area of the ocean had almost no boat activity and no air traffic. It was an empty and unimportant corner of the world; the perfect place to keep a secret.
The island was also virtually invisible in the gloom. Even in daylight, it wasn’t much to look at. It was a tall, wide tower of black rock jutting up out of the ocean, topped by a constant cloud of volcanic ash and smoke. There were no beaches, just high cliffs and sheer rock walls that dropped away into the churning water. There was no obvious place to dock a boat or land an aircraft. Red Cloak did not invite guests.
But the island was not what it appeared. It was not a testament to the power of nature but instead was manmade (or to be completely accurate, super-manmade.) The smoke belching from the top was manufactured by a complex ventilation system. Within the smoke, if anyone were to look closely (but of course no one ever did) they would find that what looked like molten lava was instead a cleverly designed red dome covering the top of the island and protecting the buildings hidden inside.
Those buildings were the campus of Red Cloak School, where specially selected young people from all across the world came to study math and science, fighting tactics and a variety of skills that could be learned nowhere else. Red Cloak was the world’s first – and perhaps only – school for superheroes.
The helicopter had secrets of its own. It had a computerized brain that controlled its flight, corrected course based on instrument readings, and automatically contacted other intelligent computers in the island's belly as it approached the tower wall. In the language of machines, the helicopter and the island greeted one another like old friends. They asked each other questions that only they could answer. Passwords were exchanged. Satisfied that they could trust one another, the island opened a large hidden doorway in its side wall and the helicopter flew inside and landed smoothly in a wide hangar bay. When the carefully constructed door closed, the wall was once again smooth and featureless. From outside, there was no evidence that the doorway or the helicopter had ever existed.
Safely within the hidden hangar, the helicopter’s computer shut its main engine down and its whirling rotors slowed to a stop. A hatch on the helicopter’s left side opened, revealing a small number of passengers who stepped out and looked around nervously. There was not much to see; the chamber was wide and tall but empty except for the helicopter itself. Attached to one wall was a pair of rolled hoses that were probably for refueling the aircraft. On either side were several unmarked doors, all of which stood closed.
The experience was designed to be disorienting for the arriving passengers. Coming out of a windowless helicopter into a windowless room, they could have been anywhere: a desert or a city, underground or high atop a mountain. They had been told very little before their departure and would not be told much now that they had arrived. The exact location of Red Cloak was a secret shared with very few, a secret that protected the school just as much as the thick walls and unique red dome were designed to do.
But one of the passengers knew he was on an island. He did not know the exact location, but he knew it was somewhere in the open ocean in an area where surveillance satellites rarely bothered to scan. He knew that the hangar in which he stood was far enough below the school buildings that none of the students would have any idea when the helicopter arrived or left. And he knew that soon one of those doors would open, and he was pretty sure he knew who would step through it.
He knew a lot more than he was supposed to know.
The black helicopter flew low over the waves, spraying water in all directions with its massive rotor blades. It had no windows and no pilot. All of its lights were turned off. In the midnight darkness, it was nearly invisible. Not that there was anybody around to see it, anyway. This area of the ocean had almost no boat activity and no air traffic. It was an empty and unimportant corner of the world; the perfect place to keep a secret.
The island was also virtually invisible in the gloom. Even in daylight, it wasn’t much to look at. It was a tall, wide tower of black rock jutting up out of the ocean, topped by a constant cloud of volcanic ash and smoke. There were no beaches, just high cliffs and sheer rock walls that dropped away into the churning water. There was no obvious place to dock a boat or land an aircraft. Red Cloak did not invite guests.
But the island was not what it appeared. It was not a testament to the power of nature but instead was manmade (or to be completely accurate, super-manmade.) The smoke belching from the top was manufactured by a complex ventilation system. Within the smoke, if anyone were to look closely (but of course no one ever did) they would find that what looked like molten lava was instead a cleverly designed red dome covering the top of the island and protecting the buildings hidden inside.
Those buildings were the campus of Red Cloak School, where specially selected young people from all across the world came to study math and science, fighting tactics and a variety of skills that could be learned nowhere else. Red Cloak was the world’s first – and perhaps only – school for superheroes.
The helicopter had secrets of its own. It had a computerized brain that controlled its flight, corrected course based on instrument readings, and automatically contacted other intelligent computers in the island's belly as it approached the tower wall. In the language of machines, the helicopter and the island greeted one another like old friends. They asked each other questions that only they could answer. Passwords were exchanged. Satisfied that they could trust one another, the island opened a large hidden doorway in its side wall and the helicopter flew inside and landed smoothly in a wide hangar bay. When the carefully constructed door closed, the wall was once again smooth and featureless. From outside, there was no evidence that the doorway or the helicopter had ever existed.
Safely within the hidden hangar, the helicopter’s computer shut its main engine down and its whirling rotors slowed to a stop. A hatch on the helicopter’s left side opened, revealing a small number of passengers who stepped out and looked around nervously. There was not much to see; the chamber was wide and tall but empty except for the helicopter itself. Attached to one wall was a pair of rolled hoses that were probably for refueling the aircraft. On either side were several unmarked doors, all of which stood closed.
The experience was designed to be disorienting for the arriving passengers. Coming out of a windowless helicopter into a windowless room, they could have been anywhere: a desert or a city, underground or high atop a mountain. They had been told very little before their departure and would not be told much now that they had arrived. The exact location of Red Cloak was a secret shared with very few, a secret that protected the school just as much as the thick walls and unique red dome were designed to do.
But one of the passengers knew he was on an island. He did not know the exact location, but he knew it was somewhere in the open ocean in an area where surveillance satellites rarely bothered to scan. He knew that the hangar in which he stood was far enough below the school buildings that none of the students would have any idea when the helicopter arrived or left. And he knew that soon one of those doors would open, and he was pretty sure he knew who would step through it.
He knew a lot more than he was supposed to know.
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