by Lucas Flint
TW held out a hand and a small hologram appeared in his palm, a hologram of Holes, which began to slowly rotate on the spot in order to give me a good look of his general appearance. “Holes, like most supervillains, was a former superhero who went rogue, his real name being Arthur Renner. In his case, he was a superhero of Oklahoma, but went rogue after an investigation discovered that he was paying off criminals in order to make himself look better. He fled to Texas, where he started his criminal career by trying to rob a bank in Rumsfeld, which is how he ran into Gregory.”
“Did Grandfather beat him?” I said.
“Yes,” said TW. “Unfortunately, Holes’ powers make it hard to keep him locked away in prison for long, so every time Gregory beat him, he would just use his powers to escape prison and resume his criminal career. He clashed with other superheroes over the years, but Gregory was the one he clashed with most often and the one he hated more than the others due to how persistently Gregory opposed his efforts.”
“If he can just use his powers to escape prison whenever he wants, why were you surprised to find out that he wasn’t in jail?” I said.
“Because the last time I saw him, his powers had been negated,” said TW. “Ten years ago, right before Gregory was kidnapped by Icon, he fought Holes one last time on the outskirts of Rumsfeld. The fight ended with Gregory winning, but the results of the battle were different from all the others. Gregory managed to negate Holes’ powers once and for all, leaving Holes an ordinary human who could be placed in ordinary prison without any chance of escape.”
“How did Grandfather do that?” I said. “Aren’t superpowers genetic? I mean, after you’ve been injected with the Superpower drug, of course.”
“They are,” TW agreed, “and for the longest time, it was thought to be impossible to negate or remove superpowers from an individual who had been injected with the Superpower drug. But Gregory, working together with a scientist friend of his, came up with a formula that could outright remove an individual’s superpowers from their body, if injected into the bloodstream.”
“Really?” I said. “What was the formula called?”
“Depower,” said TW. “It is essentially an ‘antidote’ to the Superpower drug. By injecting it into a superhuman’s bloodstream, Depower essentially cleanses a person’s body of their powers. It was an experimental drug at the time, with no guarantee it would work, but Gregory was desperate to deal with Holes once and for all, so he volunteered to field test its abilities on Holes.”
“And I presumed it worked, then,” I said. “Right?”
“Right,” said TW, nodding. “It worked flawlessly. It left Holes unable to use his powers. They even did DNA tests and found that there were no traces of Superpower in his body at all. It was truly miraculous, especially once you consider how this was the first time the drug was even tested.”
“Is this Depower stuff still around?” I said. “If so, why haven’t I heard about it until now?”
“Because the government has kept a tight lid on its existence,” said TW. “And it has rarely been used, even though it is effective at what it does. The government does not want Depower to end up in the hands of criminals who would use it to depower superheroes. Imagine what would happen if a supervillain like, say, Aeolus got his hands on Depower? You wouldn’t want the only people with superpowers to be villains and criminals, would you?”
I shuddered at the thought. “No, I definitely wouldn’t. But if it was used on Holes and it worked, then how did Holes get his powers back?”
“That, I am afraid, is a question I don’t have the answer to,” said TW. “Perhaps Depower’s effect has finally worn off and his powers returned. As I said, Depower was an experimental drug and no one knew what its long-term effects might be on an individual, especially because Holes was literally the first person to have the drug tested on them.”
“He said he broke out of jail, didn’t he?” I said. “Are there any news reports on that?”
TW paused, which he usually did whenever he was searching the Internet, and finally said, “Oddly enough, no. The most recent articles about Holes that I could find were written about ten years ago when Holes was put in jail. There aren’t any recent articles about him breaking out of prison.”
“Weird,” I said. “I’d think there’d be at least one news report on the escape of a dangerous supervillain from prison, especially one who had lost his powers. Wonder what’s up.”
“I’m not sure,” said TW, “but perhaps he broke out so recently that even the local news hasn’t reported on it yet. In any case, Holes’ presence is incredibly troubling, especially knowing that he wants revenge against you because of what your Grandfather did to him years ago.”
“I know,” I said. My shoulders slumped. “And as long as he’s in Rumsfeld, there’s no way I’m leaving to go to Icon’s base. Oh, and I can’t forget Aeolus, too. Now there are two supervillains running around Rumsfeld, supervillains I can’t just leave alone or forget about.”
“Right,” said TW. “If it helps, Gregory faced a situation similar to yours once, where he had to deal with two separate supervillains wreaking havoc in Rumsfeld. He solved the issue by calling in help from a fellow superhero of his in a neighboring city.”
“Which I can’t do because I’m an illegal superhero, remember?” I said. “If I tried that, I would just get arrested. Man, I wish Bug Bite was out of the hospital, because I’m sure he would be working hard every day to bring in Holes and Aeolus.”
“Indeed,” said TW. “But until he gets out of the hospital, you’re the only person in the city who can actually deal with these two.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but still—”
I was interrupted by a sudden beeping sound from my pocket. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I glanced at the screen and nearly jumped into the air when I saw who the text was from.
“Aw, crud,” I said. I looked at TW. “I gotta go.”
“Go?” said TW. “Go where?”
“To my date,” I said, turning around and walking back toward the door. “My date with Debra Ackerman. Which I can’t be late for, because if I am, I doubt she’ll go out with me ever again.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Yes, I’d finally asked out Debra Ackerman about a week ago. She was a girl who went to my school and was in most of the same classes as me. I’d had my eye on her for a while, but had not been able to gather up the courage to ask her out until last week. That was because she was really pretty, to the point where I was convinced that she was out of my league. It didn’t help that, thanks to school being out, I didn’t see her as often as I used to, mostly due to the fact that we didn’t run in most of the same circles.
But then, last week, I got lucky when Kyle and I went to the One Heart Mall located in east Rumsfeld, where we were going to see a new movie that had just come out at the theater attached to the mall. There we ran into Debra and some of her girlfriends and somehow I managed to ask her out and she said yes. It surprised even me, but I never questioned strokes of luck. Well, I suppose it helped that Kyle practically dragged me over to Debra because he was tired of me talking about her and never actually approaching her.
I’d been looking to the date all week. We were supposed to have lunch at the Mall and then go for a walk in the city park afterward. And I’d actually been on my way there earlier, but then Aeolus appeared out of nowhere and I got distracted trying to stop him. And then, of course, Holes attacked and delayed it even further, to the point where I had almost forgotten about my date with Debra until she sent me this text:
Hey, Jack, where r u? Waiting at the Mall.
Even as I flew through the skies over Rumsfeld, I could still see the text in my mind as if I was staring at my phone, which I wasn’t currently doing, because staring at my phone while flying was a really dumb idea, almost as dumb as looking at your phone while crossing a busy intersection during rush hour. I had sent a reply back to Debra telling her that I would be there as soon as I
could and that I was running late, but as far as I could tell she hadn’t responded to my text. I feared that Debra might have already left the Mall and was already telling her friends that I didn’t show up and that they should avoid me at all costs from now on.
“Jack, I think you’re o-overthinking this way too m-much,” said TW in my head. “I-I’m s-sure Debra will understand. She’s probably j-just worried about why you haven’t s-shown up yet.”
“Shut up, TW,” I snapped. “What do you know? You’re just an AI. You’ve never gone out on a date before.”
“Sorry f-for offering my o-opinion on the matter,” said TW. “I guess I’ll just s-shut up now, because you are o-obviously the expert on adolescent female psychology.”
I would have said that TW was acting like a drama queen, but at that moment I came across the massive One Heart Mall, its parking lot sprawling in every direction like the sea. I landed behind a dumpster behind the Mall, took off my costume, and made my way around the Mall itself to the entrance. I walked as quickly as I could, hoping and praying that Debra was still there and that I would not be late.
By the time I got to the entrance, I was huffing and sweating like I’d run a marathon. Stupid Texas summer. It got hot earlier and earlier every day, it seemed, but I pushed such thoughts out of my mind as I shoved open the front doors of the Mall, nearly knocking down an elderly man who was about to exit (and who I hastily apologized to as I passed him) and entered the cool, air-conditioned mall. I sighed in relief as I felt the air conditioning blast me full force, but I didn’t pay attention to it for long. I looked around the Mall, searching for Debra and hoping to spot her.
The One Heart Mall was two stories tall and full of people today. Everywhere I looked, I saw people walking and talking to each other, entering and exiting shops, or sitting down at food courts and having lunch. The ceiling above was completely glass, allowing the hot Texas summer sun to rain down its misery upon us all, though thanks to the air conditioning it was nowhere nearly as bad as it could have been.
Ah! There she was. Debra Ackerman was sitting on the edge of a water fountain situated in the center of the Mall, looking down at her phone. Her silver blonde hair reflected the light of the sun beautifully, while her dark framed glasses fit well with her black t-shirt and jeans. She didn’t seem to notice me yet, but I was so relieved to see her still here that I forgot all about my earlier fears that she had gone home already.
“See?” said TW in my head. “She’s still here. Did I tell you so or what?”
I ignored TW as I walked over to Debra and said, “Hey, Debra! I’m here.”
Debra looked up at her phone and smiled when she saw me. “Finally. I was wondering when you would get here. You got here quick.”
I stopped in front of her and shrugged. “I was already on my way here when I got your text. I just woke up really late this morning and had to unclog our toilet, which took a lot longer than expected.”
That, of course, was a lie, because our toilet had been working perfectly this morning. But Debra did not know that I was Trickshot and I didn’t want to tell her, at least not yet. Maybe someday I would, if we started a relationship together, but for now, I needed to make sure Debra didn’t even suspect I was Trickshot.
“I know what you mean,” said Debra. “My dad’s a plumber and he’s always groaning about clogged toilets. People put the strangest things in toilets, like CD cases and stuff.”
“Huh,” I said. “That’s weird.”
“People are weird,” said Debra. She stood up and slipped her phone into her pocket. “So, do you want to get lunch now? I’m starving.”
“Ah, sure,” I said. “Let’s go to, uh, Ronny’s. I’m in the mood for pizza.”
Ronny’s Pizza was a pizza place here in the Mall, and one of the more popular restaurants in the place as well. It was also one of my favorite places to eat, because they made a pepperoni pizza that was to die for. I didn’t know if Debra liked it or not, but I hoped she did.
“Ronny’s?” said Debra. “I’ve never been. Is it good?”
“It’s the best,” I said. “Come on. Let’s get a booth before the place fills up with people on their lunch break.”
Debra and I walked side by side down the Mall to Ronny’s Pizza, which was a few shops down from the fountain. It was both awkward and exciting to be walking side-by-side with Debra. Exciting, because this was the closest I’d ever been to Debra, but awkward because I wasn’t sure what to say to her or whether I should try to hold her hand or not. It probably would creep her out if I tried to hold her hand right away, but it was just a few inches away from my own and it looked so soft and fragile …
“You need to spend less time thinking and more time doing,” said TW all of a sudden. “That’s what Gregory would say if he was here. He was never afraid of letting a girl know he liked her, which is how he met your grandmother.”
“Shut up,” I muttered without thinking. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“What was that?” said Debra, glancing at me.
“Uh, nothing,” I said, trying to change the subject. “I was just, uh, muttering to myself about, um—”
Luckily, I didn’t have to finish my sentence, because at that moment, someone shouted, “Hey, you two! Would you be interested in some of my offerings?”
Debra and I stopped and looked over to see who had just shouted at us. It was a Mexican man wearing a red t-shirt and jeans, standing inside a small kiosk between two shops. The Mexican man looked to be in his mid-thirties or so, with a friendly, inviting smile that made it hard for me to distrust him. Above his head hung a banner that read ‘INTERESTING SUPERHERO THINGS!’ and beneath it, in Spanish, was ‘¡COSAS INTERESANTES DEL SUPERHÉRO!’ There were no products or objects on the table of his kiosk, however, which made me doubtful he actually had any interesting superhero things.
“Were you talking to us?” said Debra, gesturing at herself and me.
“Yes, yes, senorita,” said the man in the most exaggerated Mexican accent I’d ever heard in my life. “You two young people look like discerning customers, the kind who would love to own an authentic piece of superhero history!”
I looked around. Pretty much everyone else in the Mall was giving this particular kiosk a wide berth. I honestly could not blame them, because this guy struck me as being too friendly. Maybe he was just trying to get us to buy stuff, but I still didn’t trust him.
“An authentic piece of superhero history?” said Debra, who sounded genuinely interested. She walked over to the kiosk. “What do you mean?”
“Deb, we’re going to be late for lunch,” I said as I walked after her. “We can come back and look at his stuff later.”
“But you can’t,” said the man, shaking his head. “I’m only open until one, after which time I close up shop and go home for the day. And because tomorrow is Saturday, I won’t be back until Monday, so if you would like to see what I have to sell, then right now is the best chance to look.”
“Yeah, you heard him, Jack,” said Debra as she stopped in front of the kiosk. “He’s not going to be here forever. It won’t hurt to take a look.”
“But you just said you were starving,” I said as I stopped beside her. I glanced in the direction of Ronny’s. “And Ronny’s is starting to fill up …”
Debra, however, seemed to be ignoring me. She looked at the kiosk’s sign again and said, “Exactly what do you sell here, Mr. …?”
“Del Sal,” said the man. “Pepe del Sal, though you can call me Mr. Salt if you want.”
“Mr. Salt,” I repeated. “That’s an … interesting name.”
Mr. Salt shrugged. “It’s easier for people to say, so I just go with it.”
I nodded, but again didn’t quite trust him for some reason. It was probably just my inherent distrust of salesmen, a trait I had inherited from Dad, who also distrusted salesmen. But I didn’t walk away, because I didn’t want to leave Debra alone with this guy.
“Anyway,�
�� said Mr. Salt, putting his hands on the table, “in this little kiosk, I sell authentic pieces of superhero history, as I just said. Have you ever wanted to own a piece of New York City street asphalt from Baron Glory’s epic showdown with Titan King? Or one of Mech Master’s used up batteries that he discarded during his battle with Queen Bee in Las Vegas? If so, this is the place to get it. Every piece is on sale for an amazingly affordable price.”
Mr. Salt reached under his desk and pulled out a chunk of asphalt and a battery, which he placed on the table before us. “See? Authentic pieces of superhero history, just like I said.”
I looked at the two objects on the table, which had their prices labeled on them, and blanched. “Fifteen dollars for a chunk of asphalt and thirty for a depleted battery?”
“These aren’t ordinary asphalt chunks or batteries, though,” said Mr. Salt, sweeping his hand across them. “They are from famous and well-known moments in superhero history, acquired through great effort by yours truly. It is only reasonable that I charge a premium for them. True superhero fans will pay good money to own a piece of history.”
To me, they looked just like a couple of pieces of overpriced junk, but Debra seemed completely sold on Mr. Salt’s rhetoric. She picked up the battery and turned it over in her hands, an awed look on her face. “This belonged to Mech Master?”
“Correct, senorita,” said Mr. Salt. “As I said, it was retrieved from the debris left over from his battle with Queen Bee in Las Vegas five years ago. Mech Master used up over one hundred batteries in that fight alone to take down Queen Bee before she could destroy the city of Las Vegas. There are many depleted batteries on the market that you can find online which their sellers claim belonged to Mech Master, but only this one is the real deal.”
“I wonder if there is a way to verify that claim,” said TW in my head. “It sounds like sales talk to me. Make him prove it’s real.”
