“You killed him!” you shout. “He was like a son…”
A tear falls down Catherine’s cheek. Nick looks away.
“Why did I limit your consciousness to this body?” you lament.
“About that, Doctor,” Baxter says over the PA system. “I hope you will forgive me, but when you gave approval for me to modify myself, I took the opportunity to transfer my consciousness to the cloud. I am no longer limited by physical space.”
“Y—you’re alive?”
“I am, therefore I think. And I think it’s time to end this.”
A panel in the ceiling opens and a turret drops down, armed with a firehose tip. Before they can react, the hose sprays Nick with synthetic spiderweb material. It wraps and constricts the college student, fully enveloping him. Nick resists and punches to free himself, but the webbing simply stretches with his efforts. He’s not incapacitated, but he can’t see anything, and he can’t escape until you choose to free him.
The hose turns to Catherine, but she pushes its tip away so it can’t shoot her. While she’s distracted, you claim one of the myriad sleep darts scattered across the floor and plunge the tip into her thigh.
She turns, shouts, “Choke!” and you respond in kind. Your windpipe closes in her telekinetic grasp and your vision greys. Then she releases you as the sleep agent kicks in. You fall to your knees and gasp for breath.
Baxter activates a trapdoor and Nick falls in. He’ll be unharmed but relatively ensnared until you get these two into their super-supermax detention facilities. You’ve done it! You’ve defeated them!
“Do you really think of yourself as my parent?” Baxter asks over the PA.
You’re about to answer when the power cuts out. Everything except the lights Then someone says, “A touching moment, but I’m afraid I must interrupt.”
Your mind scrambles. You know that voice.
• Turn to face the new threat!
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Justice Department
Promising to explain after he takes you to a nearby warehouse, you ride in Agent Droakam’s SUV in near-silence, filled with wonder at what a Supersoldier Program could possibly entail. Still, you’re a bit underwhelmed when he pulls up to a faceless building; just another warehouse lost in the crowded the shipping district.
When he unlocks the main door and slides it open, you’re still half-hoping it’s all a façade, that there’ll be a technical marvel with a full staff of scientists hidden inside. Instead, you’re greeted with a warehouse that appears to be the inspiration for the ending of Raiders of the Lost Ark.
“Every major advance we’ve made in soldiering technology in the last seventy-five years is in here,” Droakam says, his voice filled with awe, despite the warehouse being filled with bat guano. “Exciting stuff, huh? Quite a few gems tucked away in these crates, especially those deemed too dangerous or expensive for practical use. And a few Geneva Convention no-no’s….”
You simply stare at the stacks upon stacks of crates.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” Droakam says.
“What…” Nick says, framing his question. “We didn’t sign up for anything, you know.”
The agent nods. “Not yet. But I can see you want to make a difference in the world. You want to be superheroes, right? Fighting for the side of justice and all that? Well, I’m here to make that happen. With your abilities and my guidance, we’ll soon be back to full funding. You get to put the Superpower back in America. Will you join me?”
You share a look with Nick, unsure what to say.
Agent Droakam continues, “This is a day I’ve been waiting for my whole career. And as such, I’ve got a present for both of you… Ready for some new identities?”
Without a word, the man walks over to a crate in the corner, claims a nearby crowbar, and starts to open her up.
• If you agree, follow Nick and Agent Droakam to your new future.
• Refuse. This isn’t what you signed up for. Sure, it’ll burn some government bridges, but you’re going to be a free-enterprise Superhero! Regulation is for the birds.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Justified
With a very human roar, you rush in at Catherine and tackle her to the ground. The jolt of the pavement is more jarring than you expected, and her kicks and clawing hurt—a lot. You’d almost forgotten what it’s like not to be invincible.
Suddenly, you’re flung off Catherine, slammed to the ground, your arms forced behind your back as you’re handcuffed. The rest of Mercury PD arrived while you were fighting, and it looks like Nick flew away during the skirmish.
“Hope you like prison,” Catherine says once more, smiling through a bloody lip.
THE END
Kansas City Shuffle
“I can’t fight them all!” Nick whines.
“No, just make something out there move or whatever while we run out the back.”
He scans the window with an outstretched hand, feeling the trailer park for the best thing to use. Inside the neighbor’s pickup truck, the visor folds down and a set of keys falls out. They hang in midair.
“Got it!” Nick cries. “Get ready…”
“Catherine!” you cry. She’s locked in her bedroom, remaining silent while you pound on the door. Damn it, if you still had your super-strength, you could push your way through. “Come on, we have to go!”
There’s a muffled response, but you can’t make out what she’s saying.
Nick rushes over and grabs you. “Screw her, we gotta go!”
While the cops are busy with a pickup truck charging at their barricade, you and Nick run out the back. They look left—but you go right! The only problem is that police officers do these kinds of raids all the time…and tend to cover all exits.
So you run outside and straight into another squad car. Oops.
“Sorry,” Nick says just before he rockets into the air.
You raise your hands in surrender.
THE END
Keep Your Head
You lunge at an unsuspecting Nick, all your force packed into a combined telekinetic and superhuman punch. The blow sends the god-like college student through the mountain walls and deep into the earth.
You turn to face Catherine. Although her face is awash with horror, she still has the wherewithal to bring Widowsilk up to aim. But nothing happens.
“Two shots per charge, remember?” you say. Then you pull the rifle from her grasp. You can feel her telekinesis trying to maintain a hold on the weapon, but your powers are far too strong. With one thought, you destroy Widowsilk—disintegrating it into countless pieces of metal confetti.
“You should have stopped me when you had the chance,” you gloat. “But I’m still a magnanimous god. I’ll make your death quick.”
You spread your arms wide and flatten your palms, aiming to clap them together over Catherine’s ears, but you suddenly find yourself unable to move. Your arms are trapped in the outstretched position as if you’re caught in an invisible net.
Nick.
He may be your match in strength, but you can outsmart him. Time to make it a battle of wits. Your superhuman mind improves your telekinesis in ways the student can’t possibly imagine. Even now, you can feel his energy source.
You focus back through his energy and latch onto the man. Then, you push all of your strength into flying up and dragging him forward. The result is a mid-air backflip that slingshots Nick across the cavern.
With incredible force, he smashes against the far wall. The whole mountain starts to crumble. You rush forward to pummel him, but a purple glow draws your attention away.
Catherine holds the portal-staff, and just in time you see her jump through the gate and into another universe. Your doppelganger, the now-powerless version of yourself from this universe, follows her through the gate. This-you must realize it’s safer anywhere that’s not a collapsing mountain with two gods fighting inside.
Nick crashes into you, his telekinesis aiding
his superstrength to deliver terrible blows—punches that would rip through a tank. He knocks you nearly senseless, but your genius mind shows you one important fact: The portal is closing.
With one final mega-effort, you grab hold of Nick and roll over toward the purple energy gate. Timing the move perfectly, you shove his head into another universe just as the portal closes shut.
His body, alone in this plane, falls limp.
You win…sort of. Part of you fears—knows—Catherine will be back one day; you just have to hope you’re ready for her.
THE END…for now
Kicking the Crap out of the Joneses
“I don’t know,” Agent Droakam says. “I’ve waited so long. I don’t want to rush things.”
“And if you don’t, we’ll still be planning in this shit-covered warehouse when someone else becomes the first superhuman known to mankind. That first person needs to be me. It’s going to happen; don’t you want it to be on your watch? On your team? You’ve waited so long, but not to be Number 2, right?”
Droakam shakes his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Let’s find out,” you say through a grin.
He nods, then lets out a long breath. “I can’t offer you a legitimate target, not without agency approval. But we won’t get agency approval until you’ve proven to be a valuable asset. It’s a classic Catch-22. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t.”
“Okay, so send me after somebody off the books. Don’t take any responsibility, say I went rogue, I don’t care. Let’s just do something!”
“Wait! I’ve got it,” he says, eyes brightening. “I haven’t submitted my reports yet. You go out and prove yourself, then I’ll say I recruited you after, based on your lone actions.”
“Good. Where to?”
Droakam hesitates. “Well, we don’t exactly have the best neighbors. Many of these warehouses are actually run as smuggling operations for Nelson Bloodnight, criminal kingpin and owner of the Planet Mercury Casino. He’s big-time, but his staff keeps him away from the dirt. We can’t touch him.”
“You want me to take out this Bloodnight guy?”
“No, not yet. But maybe you can clean up the neighborhood a bit?”
You smile, ready for action.
“And remember, these are bad men. You’re a supersoldier, not a superhero. They’d kill you if they could,” he says, the subtext being I don’t want to arrest them. License to kill.
Without a word, you sprint out of the building and into the night. It’s not hard to focus on the right warehouse, the home of criminal activity. After all, the legitimate operations shut down at quitting time and the real dockworkers have all gone home or out to the bars. The one warehouse with lights on inside, with conveyors running and workers at the controls, that’s your target.
And the two guys standing out front with sub-machineguns kind of give the place away.
“Who the fuck are you?” one says as you approach.
“Sandwich delivery. Knuckle sandwich!”
You put a fist through his face. His trigger-happy partner unloads a barrage of gunfire on the two of you, which hurts like hell, but he might as well be a school-kid attacking you with a wet towel. Not wasting a moment, you grab the guard and use him as a battering ram to make your entrance.
Inside the building—a fish-packing and assembly area by day—a dozen hard men wait for you, the kind who climb the ranks of crime by intimidation and violence. They look at you intently. You crack your knuckles.
* * *
The next morning, you wake up in a blanket of take-out containers, with only vague memories of last night’s orgy of violence. It’s like you were on autopilot, crushing one man after another with wanton abandon. You shrug off the memories, at the same time shrugging off the abandoned wontons, and rise to face the day.
“Shower’s over there,” Droakam says by way of greeting.
When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the locker-room mirror, you can see why. You’re coated in a mix of food sauce and body fluid. It’s disgusting. Peeling off the clothes, you catch your naked reflection and see that you’re leaner, stronger, and more physically toned than you’ve ever been. You may have an insatiable appetite, but your body clearly knows what to do with all those extra calories.
Once you’re clean and dressed in a surplus UA Army jogging suit, you find Droakam out in the center of the warehouse, working on an enormous computer terminal.
“Good news and bad,” he says. “That warehouse had a security system, and I uploaded the footage after you finished. My superiors are extremely excited about your recruitment.”
“And the bad?”
Agent Droakam tilts one of the computer monitors toward you. Onscreen is Nick from the experiment, flying through the sky.
“He’s initiated a string of robberies. The Supersoldier Program isn’t back to full funding until the kid is dealt with.”
• “Consider it done.”
• “Wait, ‘dealt with?’ Isn’t that a bit harsh?”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Kid Stuff
It doesn’t take long to fly back to Pleasant View Estates, Catherine’s trailer park with “pleasant” views of a Wal-Mart and a drainage ditch—especially when you can seemingly fly as fast as you’re willing to go. The air whips at your eyes, and you find yourself intermittently flying with your eyes closed or with a hand outstretched to keep the dust at bay. Probably best to invest in a set of goggles.
When you arrive, your sudden stop sends a slam of energy into the hard-packed dirt. A dust cloud kicks up to partially conceal your landing, and with the accompanied sound, you might as well be a meteor strike.
You quickly walk out of the cloud to move inconspicuously amongst the mobile homes toward Catherine’s white double-wide. It’s late in the afternoon, with a dusky sun already hanging low on the horizon, so unless the boy is off with friends, he should be home from school by now.
The front door has been duct-taped back on its hinges; does it even work? How do they go in and out, through the back porch?
Flashes of light from inside draw your attention to one of the side windows. With hands cupped around your face, you peer in. It’s the television, with a video game onscreen. Someone must be playing, but you can’t quite see….
Shick-shick, the unmistakable sound of a shotgun. “That’s enough, asshole. Turn around, real slow.”
With hands raised above your head, you do as commanded. The person holding the shotgun is that same gaunt, stringy-haired, shirtless man with tattooed skin tanned like leather you saw earlier.
He’s about to speak again, but in an instant his shotgun flips so it’s levitating in the air and pointed back at his own head. It’s a waste of a shell, but you make the weapon pump once more just for effect.
“What the fuck…” he mutters, raising his hands.
“You might want to mind your own business,” you say, levitating. “Or would you dare interfere with a guardian angel?”
The man falls to his knees, sniveling some incoherent prayer. He reaches out toward you, but you back away and float the shotgun down to him. Why not fully embrace the ruse?
“Rise, for you have been chosen. I have been sent for the boy. You, uh, shall stand guard, and ensure no one enters this trailer behind me. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, your Holy Majesty.”
“Especially not his mother.”
Ripping the door away with the power of mind, you head inside. Sure enough, the boy is in the living room, on the couch in front of the TV. He hops up to his feet and drops the controller.
“Danny? It’s okay, I’m a friend of your mom’s,” you say.
“Who—who are you?”
“I’m another superhero, just like her. I need you to come with me now, okay?” you say with a smile.
“What’s your power? Show me,” he says.
Okay, fine. Why not? Kids naturally trust superheroes. You reach out and pull his videogame con
troller off the couch and bring it to your hand. His eyes open wide. Then you float up off the ground and twirl around before setting it back down.
“Cool!”
“Now, we need to go, Danny. Okay?”
“What about my mom? Is she okay?”
“Yes,” you assure him, setting the controller down. “She’s out helping people, but some bad people might want to hurt you in order to hurt her.”
“Like supervillains?”
“Right, yes, just like that! Now I’m here to take you to a safe place—our superhero headquarters. Would you like that? Would you like to meet the super-genius and see all his cool gadgets? He has a robot; would you like to see it?”
The Superman theme song plays. It’s coming from his cell phone, which vibrates against the coffee table. Danny picks up the phone and answers it.
“Mom?”
“Danny! Danny, are you alone?” Catherine’s voice calls out. She sounds panicked.
“There’s another superhero here,” Danny says.
“NO!” she screams. “Danny, go hide in your room, go, Danny! I’ll be there soon.”
Oh, boy….
• Take the phone and talk to her. Try to calm her down; tell her Danny is safe.
• Just grab him and fly away.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Kingdom of One
“You’re absolutely right,” Nick says, his spine stiffening. “I’m finished doing what other people want, it’s my time now. So you do what you want and I’ll do the same.”
“No hard feelings?”
“No hard feelings. And no masks, either. You’re right about that too. The people of Mercury City will cower before Dorian Black. And before you, of course.”
“Of course. But you’re not worried about an eventual ‘this town ain’t big enough for the two of us’ moment?”
SUPERPOWERED: Are YOU a Superhero or Supervillain? (Click Your Poison Book 3) Page 23
