Omega Superhero 1: Caped

by Darius Brasher

  “Well I need to come up with a code name at some point. I can’t go by Carolina forever. Remember how the Old Man said code names were important?”

  “You need to go back to the drawing board,” Isaac said. “Movement Man stinks to high heaven. Pun intended.”

  We were sitting in a corner table at Donnegan’s Pub, a bar in downtown Portland. We had spent the day touring the city. It was now evening. The pub was our last stop before we returned to Camp Avatar. Smoke and Myth had made a big production out of buying me the beer I now sipped. I did not have the heart to tell them it was not the first one I had ever had. Dad had made a point of letting me sample various drinks at the house once I became a teenager. “If alcohol is not built up in your mind as something special and forbidden, you won’t go nuts over it when you’re an adult,” he had said.

  Isaac had already finished a beer and was now drinking water since he was going to drive us back. Neha and I both nursed our single beers as we did not plan on getting more. If there was one thing we had learned at Camp Avatar, it was that the effective and responsible use of our powers required emotional control. Getting drunk, or even buzzed, was not something to mix with having superpowers. At least not if you did not want to wind up flying headfirst into the side of building.

  Drinking beer made me think of Dad since he had been the one to first introduce me to it. “Did I ever tell you guys why I decided to enroll in the Academy?” I asked. Isaac and Neha shook their heads no. It was really more of a rhetorical question; I knew I had not told them. I had already told them the Old Man had recruited me to enter the Academy, but I had not told them why or what had happened after Amazing Man had visited me on the farm. I did not like to talk about Dad’s death. Suddenly, I felt a compelling need to do so. I did not know why. Maybe the beer was affecting me. Or, maybe I simply missed him. This was the first birthday I had ever celebrated without him.

  After first swearing them to secrecy—I did not want the other trainees all up in my business—I told Isaac and Neha everything that had happened to me, starting with my encounter with the Three Horsemen in the USCA bathroom. It seemed like it had happened an eternity ago, and to a different person. I even told them I was an Omega-level Meta. The only thing I left out was what I planned to do to the Meta who killed Dad once I found him. I did not want them to try to talk me out of it.

  “I’m so sorry that happened man,” Isaac said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you’re Omega-level before now, though. There are only a handful of Metas like you alive. You’re like Metahuman royalty or something.”

  “They can take my crown back if I can have my dad back.”

  Neha leaned forward. “Tell me again exactly what the Meta looked like who killed your father and attacked you.” I repeated what I had already told them, adding in a few other details about the Meta I had left out before. She nodded when I finished.

  “I thought so. The guy you’re looking for is named Iceburn. I recognized him from your description.”

  “Wait, you know this guy?” I asked, excited.

  Neha shook her head. “I don’t know him personally. Well, I did see him once, but it’s not like we had a conversation or anything. It’s really more along the lines of I know of him. He’s a high-priced Metahuman contract killer. He’s said to be very good at what he does and completely ruthless. Does a lot of work for Rogues. They hire him when they don’t want their own fingerprints all over someone’s death.” Neha’s eyes were a bit wide. “Iceburn’s a real heavy-hitter. Somebody big is out to get you if they sent Iceburn after you. It’s not as though guys like Iceburn are listed in the phone book where anyone can get a hold of them. Iceburn’s very selective about his clientele. He doesn’t work for just anybody.”

  “Do you know how to find him?” I sounded as eager as I felt. Birthday or no birthday, I would go find this Iceburn character right now.

  “No,” Neha said. “Everything I know about him I just told you.” I sank back in my chair, deflated. Though I had not initially planned on tracking Iceburn down until I had gone further in my Hero studies as I did not know if I was yet ready to face him from a skills and ability standpoint, I was willing to chance it and find out.

  “If Iceburn is this high level Metahuman assassin like you say who only works for elite bad guys, that begs the question of who hired him to target Theo and why,” Isaac said.

  “Amazing Man’s guess is it’s because I’m an Omega. He says some people find my mere existence threatening. Maybe it’s one of them.”

  “Yeah, but who?” Isaac said. I shrugged.

  “When I find Iceburn, I’ll ask him.” Asking him questions was not the only thing I planned to do to him.

  “You’re not ready to go up against a guy like Iceburn alone,” Neha said, as if she could read my mind. I guess it was not too hard to read the expression on my face. She put her hand on my forearm. My arm tingled a little where she touched me. Neha was a very pretty woman, and even prettier with her mask off. I suddenly had very more-than-just-friends thoughts about her. Neha looked at me with deep concern in her beautiful hazel eyes. “If you do manage to find Iceburn, let me know. I’ll help you.”

  “Let us know,” Isaac immediately corrected her. He flicked a peanut at her. “He’s my roommate. I’ve got dibs on helping him.”

  “I appreciate the offer guys, but this is my fight, not yours.”

  “You’re one of the few friends I’ve got,” Neha said. “I don’t plan on losing you. Besides, you’ve already helped me. Returning the favor is the least I can do.”

  “Helped you? You’re one of the best trainees at camp, if not the best. How have I helped you?”

  “You’ve helped me not be a complete social pariah. If it weren’t for you and Isaac, the trainees at camp would barely speak to me. I don’t care too much about what people think about me, but it’s still no fun to be alone and isolated.”

  “You can say that again. I’ve spent my fair share of time alone and isolated,” I said.

  “So promise us you won’t try to take Iceburn down alone,” Neha pressed.

  “I’ll try,” I said noncommittally.

  Isaac shook his head. “Don’t give us that ‘I’ll try,’ nonsense. You think we’re idiots? You’re just trying to get us off your back without committing to calling on us for help. Give us your word you won’t try to take Iceburn down alone. If you don’t promise us right now, I’ll nag you day and night until you do. My mother has an Olympic gold medal in nagging. I’ve learned from the best.”

  I sighed. He was right, I was trying to avoid committing myself. Besides, based on my less than successful first encounter with Iceburn and what Neha had told us about him, maybe I needed all the help I could get to take him down. What kind of justice would it be for Dad if Iceburn killed me instead of vice versa? Regardless, having Neha and Isaac around would not change what I planned to do to Iceburn. So what if there were witnesses? I planned on turning myself in to the authorities after I killed Iceburn anyway. I had learned in the Academy the importance of Metas complying with the law. If I could not do that when I killed Iceburn, at least I could do it after the fact.

  I made up my mind. “Okay, you win. I promise I’ll contact you guys when I find Iceburn.” Isaac clapped me on the shoulder.

  “Good man,” he said. “If he was smart, Iceburn would just turn himself in now. Against the three of us, he doesn’t stand a chance. Like I always say, ‘All for one, and one for all.’ I invented that expression, you know.”

  “No you didn’t,” Neha said. “Dumas wrote that as the motto of the Three Musketeers.”

  “Dumas stole it from me.”

  “How did he steal it from you when he wrote the book in the 1800s, long before you were born?”

  “Time travel. He said he’d credit me, but didn’t,” Isaac said. He shook his head in mock sorrow. “That thieving, time-traveling bastard. You can’t trust anybody these days. Or those days, for that
matter.” He frowned a little as he looked at Neha. “Wait, a minute—if this Iceburn guy is such an elite badass, how do you know about him?”

  Neha took a long pull of her beer. Her eyes were thoughtful, her face conflicted. It looked like she was wrestling about whether to answer. Finally, she sighed.

  “I already told you I was trained by the Rogue Doctor Alchemy. He was not just my trainer though. He’s also my father. That’s how I know about Iceburn.”

  Isaac and I looked at each other, then back at Neha. Isaac’s mouth was open as wide as mine was.

  “Why is the daughter of Doctor Alchemy, one of the most infamous Rogues in the world, in training to become a Hero?” I asked.

  “My father is insane,” she said flatly. “He wasn’t always that way. When my mom was murdered by one of dad’s rivals a few years back, it’s like something in him snapped. He used to just use his powers to make a living. I’m not excusing that or apologizing for it because he still was doing illegal stuff. But before my mother died, he made it a point to avoid hurting people. Now that mom’s gone, he’s different. He’s gotten it into his head that he is destined to rule the world so he can prevent deaths like mom’s from happening. To achieve that goal, he’ll stop at nothing. He’s already murdered a bunch of people that I know of.” She shook her head. “Now, how crazy does that sound? ‘I must kill all these people to gain power so I can stop people from killing people.’ I’m telling you he’s gone nuts. I ran away from home a few years ago after Mom passed away. I’ve been living on my own since. I hope to get my Hero’s license to help prevent my father from achieving his goals.”

  Our table was quiet for a bit as Isaac and I digested that.

  “Holy Moses!” Isaac said. “Theo is an Omega-level Meta whose father was killed by the Metahuman assassin to the stars, and your dad is Doctor Alchemy who is bent on world conquest? Any more bombshells you two need to drop? Is one of you having a torrid love affair with Athena? Is the Old Man an alien invader in disguise? My heart can’t take too much more of this.”

  Neha looked uncomfortable talking about her father, so I decided to change the subject. “Both Neha and I have told you why we decided to try to become Heroes. What’s your story?” I asked Isaac.

  “The story of my origin is not particularly interesting,” Isaac said with a shrug. He grinned. “Like your average man of destiny, I was born in a manger. Three wise men showed up shortly thereafter to honor me with gifts. I decided to become a licensed Hero to give all you little people something to look up to. I think that’s quite big of me. You’re welcome.”

  “Stop kidding around. I’m serious,” I said. “We shared. It’s your turn.”

  Now Isaac looked uncomfortable. It was not an expression I was used to seeing on his face.

  “Look, I realize we’re playing show and tell, but I’m going to have to take a pass on sharing. For now, at least.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” Isaac looked so discomfited I decided to let the matter drop. I stood up also.

  “I’ll go with you. I’ve got to go too,” I said.

  “I thought only women went to the bathroom together,” Neha said.

  “When you’re packing the kind of equipment I am, holding it up is a two-man operation. Theo’s going to help.”

  “Sure I’ll help,” I said. I grinned at Isaac. “You got a pair of tweezers I can use?” He looked pained.

  “If I weren’t a Hero-to-be with ironclad self-esteem, that would hurt my feelings.”

  “If you survived being born in a manger, you’ll survive this. Come on Fire Hose Man, let’s go,” I said. Since our waitress was nowhere to be seen, Neha said she would settle our tab with the bartender. Isaac and I went to the bathroom in the rear of the bar. I finished before he did, and went back to our table.

  Neha was not here anymore. After looking around for a bit in the crowded place, I spotted her by the bar. Neha was talking to a group of guys who had been sitting and drinking at the bar in the middle of the pub ever since the three of us had come in. Rather, the guys were talking to her. Neha clearly was trying to ignore them while she settled up with the bartender. As I watched, the guy seated closest to where she stood kept touching her shoulder, and she kept brushing him off. I knew Neha could handle herself, so I stayed at the table. When that guy reached down and cupped her butt, though, I was moving towards them before I even consciously realized it.

  Neha smacked the guy’s hand away. I got to her side in time to hear the guy slur to her, “What, you think you’re too good for me?”

  “Yes,” Neha said. The guy was white, bearded, big and burly, and obviously drunk. He and his four friends looked to be all about the same age, maybe in their mid-twenties.

  “There a problem here?” I asked Neha.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” she said. The guy who had touched her blinked his bloodshot eyes repeatedly as he tried to focus on me.

  “Who are you, Captain Save-A-Ho?” the guy said, his breath smelling like a distillery. His friends laughed.

  “Something like that. Come on, let’s go back to our table,” I said to Neha.

  “Not so fast Pocahontas, I’m not done talking to you,” the guy said to Neha. He grabbed at her again. Neha pushed his hands away.

  “I’m not that kind of Indian,” Neha said. She did not call him a jackass, but her tone implied it. The beefy guy reached for her again, this time grabbing her forearm. Neha twisted out of his grasp. Acting on instinct, I grabbed the guy’s arm, digging my thumb hard into the crease of his forearm opposite his elbow. The guy yelped in pain. I was poking my thumb into one of his body’s pressure points. The guy tried to stand up. I kept him seated by pulling down on his arm where I was still applying pressure, making him cry out in pain again.

  “Didn’t your parents ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?” I asked the guy, still holding onto his arm and exerting pressure on it with my thumb. His friends got up from their barstools and moved towards me. They were all bigger than both Neha and I. This was about to get ugly fast.

  “Oh look, a party no one invited me to,” came Isaac’s voice. Unnoticed, he had come up to stand behind the four now standing guys. “What game are you all playing? I hope it’s charades. I love charades.”

  The four guys twisted to look at Isaac.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business, sambo?” one of them said.

  “Oh, so it’s Jim Crow you’re playing?” Isaac said. “Can’t say I like that game as much as charades, but it’s not my party, so who am I to judge? Tell you what fellas, why don’t you have a seat and we’ll all be friends? I’ll even buy you a drink. We’ll tell our kids one day the funny story of how we all met.”

  “Fuck your drink,” another of the four said. “And fuck you. I ain’t drinkin’ with the likes of you.” He stepped towards Isaac. The other three stepped towards me and Neha. I was about to incapacitate the guy whose arm I was still holding so I could deal with his friends when there was a sudden crash from the bar. Startled, everyone looked over.

  The bartender stood there behind the bar, holding the baseball bat he obviously had just whacked against the top of the bar. He was a bear of a guy, with a big belly and thick arms corded with muscle.

  “There’s no fighting in here,” he said. “Get out.” I let go of the arm I was holding. I stepped back from the guy I released in case he planned on taking a swing at me. He squeezed his no doubt numb arm against his body. He rubbed his arm with his working hand, staring daggers at me.

  “Vic, these guys started it,” one of the standing four said.

  I said, “That’s a lie! We didn’t start any—” The bartender interrupted me by whacking the baseball bat against the bar top again.

  “I don’t care who started what. Get out. All of you,” he ordered.

  Neha, Isaac and I left the bar. We were followed by the five men. I hoped they would let this thing go, but they followed behind us as we walked in the direc
tion of where we had left the Academy car. We kept an eye on them, expecting trouble.

  When we got to an area that was away from everyone else and shrouded in shadows, the five men rushed us.

  It all happened so fast. I hit one of the guys, the one who had grabbed Neha, in the side of his neck right under his jaw. He went down like a puppet with its strings cut. A second one I kicked in the stomach. The air whooshed out of him like a slashed tire. He bent over, holding his stomach. I followed the kick up with a quick knee to his jaw. He jerked backwards. He hit the ground, joining his friend there. Neither of them moved.

  I turned to help Neha and Isaac. I need not have bothered. Neha stood over two of the guys. One was facedown on the ground, the other was faceup. Neither moved.

  I looked over at Isaac. He was moving slightly behind the sole remaining guy, the one who had called Isaac sambo. The guy’s face was bloody. A knife flashed in his right hand. Isaac kicked him behind his knee. With a cry, the guy dropped to that knee. He dropped the knife. Isaac wrapped his right arm around the kneeling guy’s neck, grabbed his own left bicep with his right hand, and pushed the guy’s head forward a bit with his left forearm. Isaac squeezed. In seconds the guy’s eyes fluttered and then closed thanks to Isaac’s rear naked choke. Isaac let him slump to the ground.

  The entire fight lasted less than a minute. Actually, it was not a fight. It was a slaughter.

  “Carolina and I knocked two guys out in the time it took you to deal with just one,” Neha pointed out to Isaac. He got a defensive look on his face.

  “I was pacing myself,” he said. He breathed hard. “Besides, my guy had a knife. It’s harder when they’re armed.” Isaac went over to where the knife had fallen. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and carefully picked up the knife with it. He pressed the knife back into the hand of the man he had just knocked out. Then, he quickly frisked the unconscious man.

  “What in the world are you doing?” Neha asked. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching us. “We should get out of here. The Academy said we’re not to draw attention to ourselves. Standing over the bodies of five unconscious guys we just knocked out is the opposite of not drawing attention to ourselves.”