SUPERPOWERED: Are YOU a Superhero or Supervillain? (Click Your Poison Book 3)

by James Schannep

  “It’s okay, I just wanted to pay you a visit. We’re going to be good friends, you and I.”

  “We are?” he says, just like a child. “You can fly?”

  “One of my many talents. I wanted to introduce myself and tell you I’m in your service. Call upon me whenever needed, and I hope that I can do the same of you, my friend.”

  How to get him in your pocket? By making him think you’re in his.

  “Do you have anything to do with this ‘Supa-gurl’ everyone’s going on about?” he asks, starting to recover his sense. He must be talking about Catherine, the woman from the experiment.

  “In a manner of speaking, though her actions do not reflect mine. In fact, if you ever think she’s a problem, we can work together.”

  He nods, about to say something, but a loud and insistent pounding comes from the other side of his door. He looks toward the sound, then back to you.

  “I pushed the silent alarm,” he confesses.

  The door bursts open, and a team of four security men rush in. Oh, boy, well, maybe it’s for the best? A chance to give Mayor Argyle a display of what you can do.

  They can only funnel through the doorway one at a time, and that gives you an advantage. You blast into the men with a psychic shockwave, knocking them all backward. In panic, the mayor hides behind his desk. That probably won’t do much toward calling off security….

  The first man is up on his feet again and draws his handgun. You reach out and break his wrist with the power of your mind. He drops the gun and staggers out of the way.

  You grab the next two men and telekinetically bash their heads together, incapacitating them. The fourth man, standing in the doorway, holds his handgun, which is aimed at you, firmly with both hands. He’s about to fire.

  You probably can’t pull the weapon, and shoving him will most likely cause him to shoot you. In an instinctual burst of inspiration, you pull the man into the room and duck down at the same time. You then fling him through the room and out the window behind you.

  There’s a scream and a thud, then silence. It was only three stories—he’ll live.

  You walk over to the mayor’s desk and extend your hand. He takes it and you help him to his feet. “Another of my many talents,” you say.

  Mayor Argyle nods. “So…we’re friends?”

  “We’re friends,” you say with a smile.

  Then you leap out of the window and into the sky. That was close, too close, but you’ve got the mayor in your pocket now. Nicely done.

  • Head back to your penthouse to relax and unwind.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  And Then There Were Two

  “NICK!!!” you boom through superpowered lungs. He turns to you (along with everyone in a whole city block), and floats your way. “I need to talk with you somewhere more…private.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’m all done ‘making it rain’ here anyway. There’s a great pub just around the corner.”

  You scratch your chin. “How big are the portions?”

  The pub is just far enough away to escape the commotion, but there’s a bit of a wait, so you opt to sit at the bar. After confirming that you can order food up here, of course.

  “Gimme a pint of Quicksilver Ale,” Nick says.

  The bartender brushes a shock of platinum blonde behind her ear, where it’s somewhat hidden amongst raven hair, and gives the college student an appraising glance. “Can I see some ID?”

  “No, you can’t,” he replies.

  She gives him her best blank, unimpressed stare.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll get it myself.”

  “Nick, wait…” You try, but it’s too late.

  Nick reaches out his hand and causes a pint glass to rise off the shelf behind the bar. Using his telekinesis, the glass floats over to the tap and fills up with golden, hoppy ale. Then the drink finds its way to his outstretched hand and finally to his lips.

  “Mmm, that’s good.”

  The bartender stares at Nick in wide-eyed disbelief while you give him a peevish glare.

  “Oh, relax. Listen, David Blaine is at the Planet Mercury Casino, and I’m his understudy. Ta-da! Street magic.”

  That’s when your food arrives. You couldn’t decide between three different burgers, and now the waiter sets all three in front of you. Famished, you dig in. Nick sips his beer and watches the news report of his exploits on the TV above the bar.

  “Robbing banks, huh?” you say in-between bites.

  “Actually, I stopped a robbery-in-progress, but you won’t hear that on the news. I suppose ‘flying criminal’ is a little more of a ratings boost. But I didn’t steal anything, I just gave back to the people. The real thieves already took the money, and I figured I’d pass it along.” He shrugs, then continues, “I guess I’m like a cross between Peter Pan and Robin Hood. Maybe my superhero name should be Peter Hood.”

  “‘Peter Hood?’ Why not just name yourself ‘Foreskin’ and save people the time?”

  Nick laughs. “What’s your deal, anyway?”

  • “I’m here to warn you. If you go around using your powers in public…you could get hurt.”

  • “If you want to be a superhero, I’ve got a better way.” Tell Nick about the Supersoldier Program.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Angel of Music

  You leap from the bed, rip the electrodes from your chest and pull out the IV—ouch! Nick and Catherine try to reason with you, but you shove everything away from you. The hospital bed flies to the periphery. Even Nick is pinned against the wall, yet Catherine doesn’t budge.

  “Leave!” you cry. “Leave me alone, or you will curse the day you did not do all that The Phantom asked of you.”

  You release Nick. He dusts himself off and says, “The Phantom exists inside your mind.”

  “GO!” you shout.

  You shove Nick out the door. Then you turn toward Catherine and glare at her through the mask and scars, eyes filled with hatred.

  “Think of me fondly,” Catherine says before she turns and leaves.

  Once you’re alone, you find The Phantom costume hanging near the bathroom. You don it as you might your true skin, then fly out the hospital window.

  Now it’s only a matter of finding your own Opera Populaire (preferably above an intricate sewer system) to haunt. Once there, you’ll get your own private booth, or damned if you won’t drop sandbags on those who stand in your way.

  Then, if you’re really lucky, you’ll find an orphan, whom you’ll one day fall in love with, you can raise as a surrogate child. It won’t be creepy. At. All.

  THE END

  Angry

  “Reproduce the results? You fool! Don’t you realize what we’ve got here? If Nick’s got an ability anything like yours or mine…you don’t just give that away! Why would you want to give the government what we’ve got? Why would you want to share this?”

  “Didn’t mamma teach you to share with the other kids?” That’s smug, but it’s the first thing to pop into your mind.

  “Don’t you dare. You’re the one behaving like a child. Do you really think the government would just give these abilities to everyone? You think we’d all be superhuman?”

  Catherine closes her eyes. You realize her fists are clenched and she’s shuddering with anger.

  “If you don’t leave in the next three seconds…One….”

  • She’s out of control, a danger to herself and those around her. Stay and fight!

  • Set the phone on the kitchen counter, then leave quickly through the open door.

  • “Wait! I don’t like it either, but what choice is there? Isn’t it better to work with them than against them?”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  An Offer Easily Refused

  Nick’s shoulders raise and lower quickly and you think you can hear him laughing from inside his helmet. He shakes his head. “It’s too late for that. If you’d offered to join forces right away, sure, we could’ve torn this town a new one. But as it
is, there’s a bounty on your head that I aim to collect.”

  He then makes a fist with his right arm pointed at you, while his left hand operates some kind of control panel on the beefy right forearm gauntlet. You stretch your hands out and mentally feel for some kind of weapon. If it’s a handgun or knife, you’ll simply throw it off the building. But what the hell is that thing?

  The gauntlet hums with life, and the wrist section glows a white-hot blue. Then a pulse bursts out in a ring of energy, growing in size for the split second before it hits you. Everything goes black as you lose consciousness.

  When you awake, you’ll find yourself in a special superhuman prison designed by Nick and guarded by Catherine, where everything is too heavy for you to move. Prepare to rot away.

  THE END

  Apex Predator

  “Mission accomplished,” you say, entering the warehouse.

  Agent Droakam stands in front of the enormous computer terminal, his back to you. The man gives no reaction whatsoever. Didn’t he hear you?

  “Droakam! I did it. Nick’s dead.”

  He shakes his head, still not turning to face you. “I should’ve gone into the State Department like the other guys. I guarantee Danly and Bertram don’t have to put up with this shit in Rio.”

  “What are you mumbling about? Snap out of it!”

  Finally, he turns around. His face is red, like he’s about to pop a gasket. “Don’t you get what you’ve done? What kind of an idiot—”

  “Hey!”

  “The whole fucking point of the mission was to keep out of the public eye! You were keeping the Supersoldier Program a secret, dumbass. Dorian was a liability because he used his powers in public, so you figured that using your powers to murder him in front of witnesses who were recording you was the best plan of action?”

  “You told me to take care of him!” you scream.

  “And a fine job you’ve done.”

  “Whatever. Fine, how do we fix it?”

  Droakam laughs. It’s an exasperated, desperate laugh. “There is no we! The program is dissolved. I’m on suspension pending investigation, and you’re about to go to prison. The police are on their way.”

  “You called them here?”

  Something inside you snaps and in a flash, something inside Agent Droakam snaps. Without a single thought, you backhand the man across the warehouse and through one of the crates. Not waiting for the police to arrive, you turn and run from the warehouse.

  The police cannot possibly hope to capture you. Whatever they throw your way simply bounces off. In fact, when a drone strike leaves nothing but a crater where you once stood, they think they’ve killed you. But even a smart bomb only throws you. Bullets, fire, explosions—none can harm you.

  So when Catherine, the woman from the experiment, stares you down with an enormous rifle, you offer an enormous laugh in return. But when the energy beam she fires from the rifle saps your strength, that puts a stop to both your laughter and your reign of terror.

  “What did you do to me?” you cry, though you know. You can feel it; your powers are gone.

  “Made you mortal,” she says. “Enjoy prison.”

  THE END

  Assault with a Super-Weapon

  Nick turns to the clerk. “Have you called the cops yet? Tripped a silent alarm?”

  The clerk’s face is full of confusion, then he slowly shakes his head.

  “Why not? You’ve been listening, haven’t you? We’re about to reveal ourselves to the world as supervillains! Doesn’t that register as important?”

  “A lot of weirdos come in here.”

  “We’re not paying for these costumes,” you say.

  “Okay, in that case, I’ll call the cops.”

  “Not enough,” Nick says, shaking his head. “Make sure you mention the assault with a deadly weapon.”

  Nick turns around and pulls a sword from behind a glass case. The case shatters and the sword windmills through the air and attacks the clerk. The clerk screams and darts away, trying to hide behind the desk as the sword slashes at him.

  It’s not sharpened, of course, but it’s a hunk of metal and it definitely hurts.

  “Okay! I’ll make sure the cops chase you guys! Christ!”

  The sword clatters to the ground. Nick turns to leave.

  “Thanks,” you say.

  “Ah!” Nick says, then mimes zipping his lips. “Remember, you’re silent but deadly.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Out on the street, Nick takes to causing as much havoc as he can. Shoving pedestrians, mainly. You follow his cue and start on destruction of property. Newspaper bins and trashcans, though bolted to the sidewalk, sail away like kickballs on the schoolyard. A quick shove, and a parked car tips out into the middle of the road, clogging traffic. You slam a fist through the side of a building and drag your arm through it as you walk, as effortlessly as clearing snow off a handrail.

  “That’s fucking awesome,” Nick says. “Helluva breadcrumb trail, Mime. They’ll find us for sure.”

  You nod. And sure enough, a patrol car arrives after only a few minutes. With a dwip-dwip call of the siren, the car pulls over and a uniformed officer steps out.

  “Put your hands on top of your heads, and take off the masks.”

  “Call for backup,” Nick says. He raises his arms to his sides and floats into the air, essentially flying. The cop calls for backup.

  “They call me Screamer! Not because of this mask, but because of the screams I induce in others,” Nick monologues.

  “Sir! Please…please land back on the ground.”

  Nick drops to the ground, but at the same time lifts the cop into the air and flings him down the street. The police officer screams, then slams against the pavement and goes silent.

  A second patrol car speeds towards you, and you figure it’s your turn. You dart out into the street, too soon for them to swerve or brake to avoid a collision, and deliver an uppercut punch to the grill of the car. Immediately, the car flips backwards and lands on its roof. The front of the vehicle is obliterated and the cops inside are knocked unconscious by their airbags.

  So it goes, with police officers arriving in ones and twos, and you and Nick taking turns dispatching the men and women of the Mercury City PD. It’s not long until a news helicopter comes to document your exploits and the police arrive in larger numbers.

  Something like a bee sting hits you in the chest just before a crack sounds in the air. You instinctively swat at the pest, and a flattened bullet falls away. They just shot you—and you’re bullet-proof!

  They shoot you again and it fucking hurts! With a roar, you rip a streetlight out of the pavement and hurl it at the officers shooting you. The attack crushes their patrol car barricade. But there are more nearby with weapons drawn.

  “Nick, be careful! You’re not bulletproof.”

  “Good point. Guess I’d better become invisible.” He reaches out at the nearest policeman and pulls. The man screams in agony as his eyes are ripped from their sockets. The other officers fall back. “Scream for me!”

  Nick laughs like a psychopath as the police launch canisters of tear gas your way. You start to laugh, but choke. The gas stings! Oh God, it burns! You swat at the gas, but the canisters pour the cloud thicker and thicker.

  “Time to regroup!” Nick shouts. “This way!”

  • No time to think; follow Nick’s voice away from the poison gas!

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  As Seen on TV

  After a full day of walking around in hazmat suits, you’re sweaty and exhausted. The only event worthy of a superhero you found was a measly skyscraper fire. One of the upper floors was fully engulfed in flames but Nick said, “No way in hell I’m running into a fire wrapped in a plastic bag.” It was a fair point, and besides, the Mercury City Fire Department was already on the scene. Having found no other commotion, you regret not helping when you had the chance.

  Now you order a dozen pizzas and bring
home a case of your favorite libation. Nick assumes you bought enough food for him, but you don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. Truth is, nothing sounds better than gorging your insatiable appetite, a shower, and bed.

  Instead, you show the college student into your apartment, plop down on the couch, turn on the TV, and clink your glasses together in a toast to a long day. The nightly news is on the TV, with blonde reporter Alison Argyle on screen.

  Footage cuts to a warehouse fire in Mercury Bay’s shipping district. The drink falls out of your hand. You leap up, sending the couch backward six feet. “That’s it! There’s our chance.”

  “Uh, plastic suicide suits, remember?” Nick says, still on the couch.

  The phrase Possible Terrorist Attack flows across the news ticker.

  “This isn’t a job for the fire department,” you say.

  “This is a job for The Cleanup Crew!” Nick finishes, leaping to his feet.

  With sudden inspiration, you leap out of your apartment window and smash against the pavement four stories below without so much as losing your breath. You turn, arms open to catch Nick, but instead the college student floats out the window. He’s flying!

  Not wasting another moment, you sprint toward the warehouse district with inhumanly fast strides. It’s not that you possess super-speed, but you move in proportion to your super-strength. Your legs fire like pistons and you run faster than if you were riding in a cab.

  After a few short minutes, you’ve arrived. You’re not even winded! Nick sets down nearby the burning warehouse. One of the loading bays has been blown open. Fire pours out with menace. You can feel the heat coming off it like sunlight on a Florida beach in August. Beads of sweat collect inside the hazmat suit. Still, these gas masks should help with the smoke. Cautiously, you head inside.