A Superhero's Assault

by Lucas Flint

  I flew into the air and caught Christina in midair before she could smash into the wall. We then landed on the floor on the other side of the chamber, though Christina continued to hold onto me as if she was still flying about uncontrollably.

  “You okay, Christina?” I said, looking at her with some concern, because she was shaking slightly in my arms.

  Christina shook her head and pushed me away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Now put me down or I’ll slug you.”

  I let Christina down, but then turned around in time to see Atlas hovering on the other side of the room, dodging Uncle Josh’s bullets with ease. Uncle Josh, however, kept shooting, not even remotely afraid of his opponent, even though it was pretty obvious to me that Uncle Josh was completely outmatched here.

  “What’s he doing?” said Christina. “Does he really think that he’ll be able to shoot that monster with his gun?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, “but I’m going to go help him anyway. You try to find a way out of here, okay?”

  Before Christina could voice the obvious objection on her mind, I flew toward Uncle Josh, who had run out of bullets as soon as I took off. He then threw the gun at Atlas, who dodged the thrown gun easily and rushed down toward Uncle Josh. He stopped in front of Uncle Josh and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him off his feet with one hand.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “Let go of my uncle, you creep!”

  I pulled out a disk from my pouch and threw it at Atlas’ hand. The disk struck head on, causing Atlas to let go of Uncle Josh, who fell to the floor with a gasp, clutching his no-doubt aching throat. But I didn’t pay attention to him, because I body-slammed Atlas, sending him flying across the room until he crashed into one of the marble columns holding the ceiling up. The crash seemed to have stunned Atlas for a moment, so I looked down at Uncle Josh, who was slowly sitting up, though still rubbing his neck.

  “Uncle Josh, how are you doing?” I said. “Can you breathe?”

  “I … I think so,” said Uncle Josh in a slightly hoarse voice. “If you hadn’t saved me, he would have broken my neck in just a few seconds. Haven’t fought someone that strong in a long time.”

  “It’s the beauty of the Atlas Armor,” said Chaser, who sounded almost gleeful. “As I was promised, it enhances the strength of the user to superhuman levels. And that’s but the most basic application of its power. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “Well, I’m not that impressed,” I said. I gestured at Atlas. “Because I just broke your new toy with a body slam.”

  “Broke?” said Chaser. “You barely even scratched it.”

  I heard the sound of metal scraping against rock and looked back over at the marble column. Atlas was slowly but surely pulling himself out of the marble column and, although he had yet to speak a word, I sensed that he was incredibly pissed off at what I did.

  “Uh oh,” I said. “That’s not good.” I looked at Uncle Josh. “Uncle, you and Christina should stay out of this fight. If Atlas is as strong as Chaser says it is, then I’m the only one here who can really give it a fight. You two should just try to find a way out of here, maybe try to force the door open so we can escape.”

  “I won’t argue against that,” said Uncle Josh, “though something tells me Christina won’t be entirely happy to hear that she’s not going to fight.”

  Christina suddenly appeared beside us, a winning smile on her face. “Did someone say I don’t have to fight the crazy man in the power armor? If so, I’m definitely in and you can’t change my mind.”

  “You don’t have to be so eager, you know,” I said.

  Christina opened her mouth to respond, but then Uncle Josh suddenly shouted, “Watch out!”

  I looked over in time to see Atlas rocketing toward me. He swung both of his fists at me, but I caught them both and we were both soon stuck in a struggle session, pushing back against each other as hard as we could. I heard Uncle Josh and Christina running away toward the door, but I didn’t pay any attention to them because all of my attention was focused on keeping this dude from overwhelming me.

  Chaser wasn’t joking about the Atlas Armor granting its user superhuman strength. If anything, Atlas seemed to be even stronger than me, though that could have just been my fatigue starting to catch up to me. In any case, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to win this fight on strength alone.

  And again, I hated how I couldn’t even see his face. That stupid faceplate was coming off at some point, probably after I finished beating him into a tin can. Or maybe I would wait until after I kicked Chaser’s butt, because I didn’t have any intention of letting that jerk get off scott free.

  Suddenly, Atlas’ rocket boots kicked in. He flew over me, but without letting go of me, and he landed and threw me head over heels across the room. I spun through the air for a moment before I regained control of my trajectory and stopped in midair before one of the columns, turning around just in time to see Atlas rocketing toward me at a speed almost too fast for me to keep up with.

  But I flew up at the last minute and, as Atlas flew by underneath, I slammed my feet down on his back. Atlas crashed into the floor below like a meteor, leaving a huge crater shaped vaguely like him. That attack would have killed an ordinary man, but to my horror, Atlas pushed himself up out of the crater and looked up at me with that same unnerving face plate of his, as if to ask if that was all I had.

  “They made you out of stern stuff, didn’t they?” I said. “And what are you waiting for? I’m right here. Are you waiting for me to come to you or—”

  Atlas held up both of his hands toward me. The hands suddenly unleashed a giant blast of energy at me, which struck me in the chest so hard I slammed into the ceiling and bounced off it. I landed on the floor hard enough to crack it, where I lay dazed from the blast and barely able to understand where I was or what just happened to me.

  But then Atlas appeared over me, grabbed me by my cape, and once again threw me across the room. This time, he threw me at one of the columns and I hit it so hard that I actually smashed through it and landed on the other side.

  “Now, now, Atlas,” said Chaser, whose voice sounded somewhat distant now for some reason, as if there was something wrong with my ears, “I don’t want you tearing up my personal quarters. Knock down too many of those columns and the entire ceiling will collapse on us.”

  I found it odd how Chaser spoke to Atlas like he was a little kid who needed to be reminded that it was his nap time, but I didn’t pay attention to that. I just sat up, groaning at the pain in my back. I felt something hot running down the side of my face and, touching it, realized I was bleeding from the forehead. It was kind of amazing that I had sustained such minor injuries despite all of the punishment I’d taken, which was a testament to the durability power I’d inherited from the suit.

  But then a scream of terror made me forget all about my own pain. Looking toward the door, I saw that Atlas was flying toward Uncle Josh and Christina, who seemed to have had no luck in opening the door over the last several seconds. There was no way I would be able to catch up with Atlas before he reached them, but I didn’t need to. I drew three Trickshot disks from my pouch and hurled them at the floor.

  The Trickshot disks bounced off the floor and immediately began bouncing all around the room faster than even my eyes could follow. Despite the seeming randomness of their bouncing, all of the Trickshot disks had the same destination: Atlas, who was closing in on Uncle Josh and Christina fast.

  One of the disks struck the sole of Atlas’ rocket boot, sending him swerving off to the side unexpectedly. Another one struck him in the face and the third and final disk hit him in the back of the head. The three blows had slowed him down, especially the first one, giving me enough time to fly over to and catch up with Atlas.

  Flying over Atlas, I grabbed him by the shoulders and, spinning around, threw him toward the other side of the room as hard as I could. Atlas spun crazily through the air for a moment before he crashed into and through the floor for
several feet until he came to a screeching stop in front of Chaser’s computer monitor, where he lay stunned from the impact of my throw.

  Yet I wasn’t done with him. I flew over to Atlas, who was struggling to get to his feet, and as soon as I landed, I punched him in the face and knocked him down once again. As soon as he fell, I kicked Atlas in the gut and then grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall as hard as I could.

  Pulling back my fist, I said, “Good night, you jerk.”

  Atlas said nothing to that, but before I could finish him off with a punch to the face, a small hissing sound came from his faceplate, which slowly flipped open. It flipped open like a door, which meant I didn’t get to see the face behind it until it fully opened.

  As soon as I saw the face behind the mask, I froze. I couldn’t believe what my eyes showed me. It had to be a lie. Maybe I was going crazy from the lack of sleep I’d gotten tonight. Or maybe I had actually died in the submarine explosion earlier and this was all just my last nightmare before I passed away from the injuries I received from the blast.

  Because there was no way that Atlas was my grandfather, Gregory Matthew McDonald, the original Trickshot and defender of Rumsfeld, Texas.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The face which had been hidden behind the Atlas face plate looked almost exactly like I remembered Grandfather looking, save that it was paler than usual and the mustache and beard were grown out more. But I couldn’t deny that I was looking at the face of my own grandfather, the very real face I had just been about to punch in like a piece of paper. His dull gray eyes looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read, though he didn’t seem conscious.

  “Grandfather?” I said in a low voice. “Is that … is that you?”

  Chaser suddenly spoke above me. “Why, yes, it is indeed Gregory Matthew McDonald, your grandfather and the man who gave you the Trickshot Watch in the first place.”

  Against my will, I dropped my fist, unable to take my eyes off of Grandfather’s face. “You mean I was fighting Grandfather this entire time and I didn’t even know it?”

  “Certainly,” said Chaser. “Why do you think both your grandfather and the Atlas Armor were missing? I wanted your grandfather to be wearing the Atlas Armor so that I would have someone equal to you in strength and ability to defend me. I thought Gregory would defeat you, given how he is more experienced and skilled than you, but I suppose even the Atlas Armor can’t entirely undo the effects of old age, eh?”

  I was amazed that Grandfather was still breathing at all. I had beat on Atlas pretty hard, harder than I normally would against another human being. I guess that the only reason Grandfather wasn’t just smashed meat in a tin can at the moment was because the Atlas Armor was tough enough to absorb my punches, though given how tired Grandfather looked, perhaps the Armor wasn’t as sturdy as it looked.

  I looked up at Chaser. “You jerk. You almost had me kill my own grandfather in cold blood and I didn’t even know it. You’re every bit the monster Christina said you are.”

  “I am flattered,” said Chaser. “I didn’t make you do anything. I just pit you against an equally strong opponent, an opponent you easily overcame. Congratulations.”

  “Congratulations?” I repeated. “Do you even realize what you just said?”

  “I do,” said Chaser. “But I also know that you’re not in any position to act on your outrage.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  All of a sudden, Grandfather punched me in the gut with surprising strength. I gasped in pain and let go of Grandfather, who immediately lashed out with a kick to my chin. The blow sent me staggering backward, lights flashing in my eyes, while Grandfather advanced toward me with a slow but menacing gait.

  “Grandfather, can’t you hear me?” I said, rubbing my chin where he had kicked me. “It’s me, Jack. Your grandson.”

  “Don’t bother trying to talk to him,” said Chaser. “Gregory is entirely unaware of anything he’s doing. The Armor controls him now, and because I control the Armor, that means he won’t give up until you’ve been beaten into a fine pulp. It is what the Atlas Armor is designed to do, after all: protect me from threats to my life, such as you.”

  I hated Chaser’s voice, but I was too hesitant to fight Grandfather. I knew I should have defended myself, even gone in for the kill, but I was now suddenly so worried about harming Grandfather that I wasn’t sure if I should try hitting him or not. Even if the Atlas Armor allowed him to take more pain than normal, I still didn’t like the idea of beating my own grandfather into submission.

  “You are hesitating,” said Chaser. “Can’t fight your old man? I’m not surprised. Most people can’t fight their own family, certainly not to the death. Gregory would be reacting the same way if he still had his free will. Luckily for me, his free will is being suppressed by the Atlas Armor’s neurotechnology. He won’t remember killing you in cold blood, nor that you were unable to fight back against him, either.”

  Chaser’s tone was mocking, but there was a lot of truth to what he just said. The thought of punching my own grandfather in the face or anywhere else on his body was repugnant to me. Whereas before I hadn’t cared if I killed or crippled Atlas, I now worried that I would kill my own grandfather if I wasn’t careful.

  Then, all of a sudden, two energy ropes came out of nowhere and wrapped around Grandfather’s body. Grandfather came to a stop and looked down at the energy ropes in confusion before they suddenly constricted, making him actually cry out in pain.

  “Grandfather!” I said. I looked at where the ropes had come from to see Christina holding them. “Christina, what are you doing here? I thought you and Uncle Josh were trying to open the door.”

  “Oh, I gave up on that when it became clear that the door can’t be opened from the inside,” said Christina, though her voice was incredibly strained. “When I saw you were having trouble with this guy, I decided to help you instead, especially when I heard Chaser’s smug voice mocking you. Can’t stand it.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue with me,” Christina snapped. She nodded at the computer monitor. “Take out Chaser. I’ll hold Atlas down as long as I can, but he’s pretty strong and I’m not, so I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to hold him. If you can take out Chaser, then you can take out Atlas.”

  I hesitated, but realized Christina was right. If I couldn’t bring myself to punch out Grandfather, then I would just have to take out the man who was controlling him: Roland Chaser himself, who was no doubt sitting behind the other side of that monitor feeling very smug about how he had managed to pull one over on me.

  I nodded at Christina and flew over Grandfather, who whipped his head up to look at me as I passed by overhead, and toward Chaser’s computer monitor, which was glowing as brightly as ever.

  “What are you doing?” said Chaser, a hint of fear in his voice. “Where are you going? Stay back, or I’ll—”

  I didn’t get to hear what Chaser would do to me, because at that moment, I smashed into and through the computer monitor with a single punch. I crashed through the wires and electronic components in the monitor, tearing through it like I was rushing through the jungle. It was dark inside at first, until I suddenly burst out into a small room barely bigger than my own bedroom on the other side.

  The room had the same concrete floors, ceiling, and walls as the rest of the chamber. It was mostly bare, save for various computer monitors which seemed to display different parts of Iconia, including the silent forest which Christina and I had made our way through earlier. I also spotted the smoking remains of Lab #5 on another monitor next to it, but my eyes were really drawn to the only other human being in the room other than myself.

  Sitting in a chair was the weakest, most pathetic man I had ever laid my eyes on. He might have been in his late sixties, but he frankly looked more like he was in his late nineties. His limbs were thin, almost stick-like, while his skin was pulled across his face, showing his brittl
e skull. His eyes would have looked big in their sockets even if he hadn’t been wearing thick, horn-rimmed glasses, while his teeth seemed to be yellowing and brittle. He sat with a computer monitor hanging off an arm behind the chair in front of him, but the monitor immediately moved out of the way as soon as I landed, allowing me to face the man—who smelled like he hadn’t bathed in weeks—with nothing between us but a few feet of empty air.

  “So,” I said, slowly rising to my full height. “This is really you, huh? The real Roland Chaser?”

  Chaser’s eyes were wide with fear. He kept hitting a button on the arm of his chair over and over, but as far as I could tell, it didn’t do anything. Maybe it was supposed to send an SOS to his agents, though I didn’t think it would do him any use, given how he was probably going to be dead by the time the cavalry arrived.

  “You’re pathetic,” I said. “Look at you. You look like how my grandma did when she was dying from cancer in her final years.”

  Chaser stopped hitting the button. He didn’t even try to get out of his chair. Instead, he just glared at me with hateful, almost inhuman eyes, his small, thin hands shaking noticeably on his lap.

  “My body may be frail, but I still have the intellect of a god,” said Chaser. He tapped the side of his head. “And in this world, that’s all that matters. It isn’t the physically strongest who rule, but the most intelligent. But I suppose a meat head like you just wouldn’t understand, now would you?”

  I didn’t respond. I just walked up to Chaser and picked him up by his throat, raising him out of his chair. He gasped and kicked at me, but his feet were so weak that I barely even felt his kicks against my strong chest. It felt more like a soft, if not gentle, breeze, and I likely wouldn’t have noticed it at all if I wasn’t looking directly at him.

  “Rant all you like about your ‘godly’ intellect,” I said. “Ain’t doing you much good without any air going into your lungs, huh?”