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

by James Schannep

  You both blush.

  Then six more figures step forward from the shadows. You really need to install some lights down here. They wear lab coats, each one a different color, and the man in the white coat has an “Ex” emblazoned on his shirt.

  “A touching moment, but I’m afraid I must interrupt.”

  “The Experi-mentor!” Nick cries.

  The scientist takes a bow. “My creations—so we meet again. Unfortunately, Agent…Droakam, was it? The signed releases from the experiment clearly state that any successful result would become the property of the company, and thus I own a patent on the three superheroes. All this to say, they’re not in a position to accept your offer, seeing as how I own them.

  “And, to ensure no breach of contract, allow me to introduce my colleagues. You see, Dr. Nobel, when you used your own blood to cure cancer, you unwittingly gave me a key to reverse-engineering the experiment. Using your DNA, I created five other wonderful superpowers.”

  The Experi-mentor points to the other scientists, who are lined up by his side. The first is a woman in a black lab coat, a man in blue, another in green, a woman in red, and finally, a male scientist in a clear rain-slicker. In order, he introduces them as, “Doctors Necromancy, Hallucination, Reader, Mind-Control, and Timetravel.”

  “They’re considering fighting,” Dr. Reader says.

  “I’m only offering cooperation as a courtesy,” the Experi-mentor says. “I could just have Dr. Mind-control force you into it.”

  “The leader, Dr. Nobel, thinks the robot is the key to defeating us,” Dr. Reader says at the exact moment you think, Their powers are mind-based, they wouldn’t work on Baxter!

  Knowing you’ve only got one shot to get this right, you shout, “Baxter, activate combat modules. Passcode: Skynet Awakens—go for…”

  • “…Dr. Hallucination!” How can we fight if he’s manipulating our senses?

  • “…Dr. Mind-Control!” She’s the Experi-mentor’s trump card.

  • “…Dr. Timetravel!” If we win, he’ll just go back in time and kill our mothers!

  • “…Dr. Reader!” We can’t win if they know our plan!

  • “…Dr. Necromancy!” With a name like that, she’s obviously the most terrifying!

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  The Most Dangerous Game

  First, you study the feed—over and over again.

  “The one you call ‘Nick’ appears to have both super-strength and a high resistance to damage,” Baxter says. “He crumbled that wall and his fists were not crumbled in response. The maniacal laughter after his entrance seems to be aimed at Newton’s third law.”

  “Good point. Where’s the equal reaction?”

  “That will be a problem for us. We cannot hope to find his threshold for damage while we are already engaged in combat.”

  “That’s true,” you say, further studying the footage. “Catherine, on the other hand, appears to possess telekinetic abilities of a magnitude such that she can make herself ‘fly’ for all practical purposes of the word.”

  “Unless her abilities are equally as impossible as Drillbit’s. What if she can actually manipulate reality, and simply does not realize it?”

  Your heart sinks. “In that case, we’re fucked.”

  “Such harsh language, Doctor!”

  “Are you really offended, Baxter?”

  The robot’s light blinks. “I am unsure if I possess that capability. I was merely affecting a personality inverse to your negative reaction.”

  “You can…alter your personality?”

  “Fo shizzle, Doc. Spittin’ trufe straight dope, if dat’s how it gotta be,” Baxter grins.

  “Okay, I get the point. Also, I’m not a doctor.”

  “No, but I thought it appropriate. If we are to fight people who call themselves ‘Drillbit’ and ‘Shadow Priestess,’ why not have your own larger-than-life persona?”

  “Doctor…” you muse. “Gadget?”

  Baxter’s speakers come on, playing the old Inspector Gadget theme, but calling out “Doctor Gadget!” at the right time.

  “Ugh, no. Never mind. Let’s just focus on bringing down the criminal duo,” you say.

  “Okay. While we had this conversation, I was analyzing military tactics. What was traditionally called ‘the high ground’ and today ‘home court advantage’ could serve us well.”

  “So you’re saying we fight them on our own terms.”

  “Can we set a trap and draw them here?” Baxter asks.

  * * *

  “People of Mercury City! I call to you today to tell you not to live in fear. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Nobel… and I have cured cancer. Now I turn my considerable attention to the criminals who’ve been plaguing our fair city. From my island fortress, I will devise a way to deal with Drillbit and Shadow Priestess, I promise you. For now, keep your spirits high.”

  Dropping the act, you turn to Baxter. “How was that?”

  “Transmission complete, Doctor. Based on my facial recognition software, I believe you appeared genuine.”

  “Let’s hope so. We need them to think we haven’t prepared for them yet so they’ll rush here to stop us.”

  “We are verrrrry sneaky,” Baxter says while flexing the newly enhanced anatomy, a product of your few days’ preparation. The robot’s forearms glow blue from deep within. “There are two of us and two of them. Should we focus our attentions?”

  • “Good idea, I’ll take Nick. With someone as powerful as Drillbit, manipulating his emotions is probably the best course. And I’m assuming I’ll be better at it than you, what with your just being born….”

  • “Okay, I’ll take Catherine. I’ve got a bad feeling that she might just disassemble you with her mind. So, whatever I craft will keep her overtaxed and occupied.”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Murder Schmurder

  Okay, so you probably just killed that pimp. Turns out brains don’t like being “touched” or whatever, so you’d better put that skill waaaaay in the back of the toolbox. But no one’s going to miss some flesh-peddler who suddenly got an aneurysm after beating up too many whores, right?

  You shrug, and the trash on the street flutters in response.

  Sirens suddenly echo off the surrounding buildings, and you think to dart away like a frightened rabbit, but as the fire engine passes you realize that it’s not the cops coming for you. Instead, fire truck pulls up to a massive fire up ahead.

  An entire floor of a skyscraper is ablaze. Thirteen stories up, black smoke billows out and curls up the sides of the building.

  “There’s someone up there!” a tourist shouts, lowering his binoculars against his travel vest. “He’s gonna jump.”

  • There may be a crowd, but I’m the only one who can save him!

  • Gross. I don’t want to be around to see that.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Neo-Manhattanite

  “You know, if you put on a stern look and pointed at me while you said your pitch, it’d probably make a better recruiting tool,” she says.

  “I’m serious!” you bark.

  “Yeah? Well, I’m seriously not buying it. Why would I want to join the post office when I can start my own FedEx? Why work for NASA when I’m SpaceX? Trust me, I’ll do great things for this country, but I’m not going to do it being a Neo-Oppenheimer. The folly of genius lies in giving way to bureaucrats.”

  “Isn’t that a little…short-sighted?” Nick says.

  Catherine scoffs. “Nothing kills innovation quite like regulation. I’m bursting through the red-tape ceiling.”

  “Can’t change your mind?” you ask.

  “You just tried, didn’t you? Sorry, but no hard feelings. I’ll see you on the other side. Good luck with the whole Freedom Fighters thing. Maybe I’ll give you a call if ‘Woodall Wonders’ ever starts hiring.”

  • Head back to the warehouse without Catherine.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  A New Menacer />
  As a compromise, you get to keep the name The Phantom, but the first issue of your new comic book is titled The Phantom Menace, and you don’t have to call the lightsaber a “beamstick.” That first issue is solely about you, because you beat out both Diamond and Dorian White as the world’s first superhero. Of course, you spent a significant amount of your superhero career thus far in a hospital bed, but first is first and fair is fair!

  Nick Dorian came up with the name Chimera for your super-team, based on the mythological creature from antiquity composed of three separate beasts. You know, just like your team is three people with three powers, get it? College students can be so pretentious…bet he sees himself as the lion head, too. Although, technically, since accepting corporate sponsorship, the team is called, “Nike Presents: The Chimera.”

  The first issue releases just as you’re released from the hospital, healthy and ready to fight crime once more. Even though Nick and Catherine spend the intervening time stopping bank robberies, extinguishing other major fires, and busting up crime syndicates, you’re the most famous hero of the three. Why? Because you were featured in Nike Presents: The Chimera #1—The Phantom Menace.

  Presently, in order to avoid the throngs of reporters and teenage fans blockading the front of the hospital, Nick arrives via helicopter on the hospital roof. When you climb aboard, you see he’s actually piloting the thing.

  “You know how to fly a helicopter?” you say once you’ve donned the headset.

  Normally, you’d be frightened to hop into a helicopter with a college student, but there’s something comforting in the thought that you could always just leap out and fly away.

  “I do now!” he calls back, grinning beneath mirrored aviator sunglasses. “Actually, the controls are fairly rudimentary. I modified this particular model, and of course gave it a few upgrades that might come in handy in our war against crime. Ready to head home?”

  Home, and he’s not talking about your low-rent apartment. Ready as you’ll ever be. You give him a nod and he takes off into the sky. He presses a few buttons on the dash and the rotor blades stop spinning. You look up through the bubble canopy windshield in time to see them sweep back and retract. Just as the bird starts to fall, it suddenly blasts forward under the force of an unseen rocket engine in the rear. Seems like he cashed in on a pretty solid book advance to be able to afford all this.

  It’s only a few minutes later that you arrive at “The Savior Complex,” your floating city/secret lair. What was that about pretentious names? Well, say what you will, the kid’s been busy. It’s a floating city in the sky, for Christ’s sake! As he lands, you see insect-like robots climb through the sanctuary, autonomously installing new hardware and God-knows-what-else.

  “Dorian, I’m glad you’re on our side.”

  He gives a curt smile, then leads you into your quarters. The security doors open in response to your palm imprint and, beyond that, a velvet purple stage curtain parts to give way to Le Opera Populaire—your wing of the house. Up top is an enormous chandelier, but you quickly realize the whole suite is meant to look like an opera house. Perhaps if you’d known the impact of your costume choice, you might have spent more time browsing the racks of that Halloween store….

  The pièce de résistance is a row of Phantom suits, new and clearly upgraded. On the far end stands one clearly meant for battle—crimson red, where the others are black—with an ornate double-breasted coat, like an artilleryman’s uniform. Rather than oxford cloth and suit pants, it’s a versatile, lightweight, armored battle suit. Something like a functional Batman costume, but there’s a big white Nike swoosh on the chest.

  “Goddamnit,” you grumble.

  “Suit up. We’ve got company. A group from the FBI, by the looks of it, and we want this official. I’m not sure what we’re about to be offered, but I’m assuming it’s a contract to protect America, so we want to look professional. See you in the Lion’s Den in five.”

  * * *

  When you finally reach the “Lion’s Den” (a grand room with a roaring fireplace and a lionskin rug), Diamond and Dorian White are already waiting in costume, entertaining a man in a comparatively ordinary black suit. He’s of average height, square-jawed and muscular, with the short-cropped hair of a military man. He pours himself a drink from the corner bar.

  “Ah, the famed Phantom!” the man says. “Will you join us in a toast?”

  He hands Diamond a glass, but Dorian taps himself on the head and says, “No thanks, dulls the senses.”

  “What’s all this about?” you ask.

  “On to business then. My name is Agent Brenden Droakam, head of the United States Supersoldier Program.” He suddenly has the room’s rapt attention and continues, “To the existence of the superhero and the return of full funding to my department!”

  Droakam toasts himself and downs the top-shelf liquor.

  “What do you want?” Diamond says in a low voice, setting her glass down on the fireplace mantel.

  “First, to introduce you to an old friend.” The agent makes his way to the double-door entry opposite the passage where you entered. He pulls both handles dramatically and steps aside so you can see the figure in the doorway. The new man’s shadow is long and stark across the grand room and when he steps forward into the light cast by the fireplace, his flowing lab coat sweeps in behind him.

  “Greetings, my great creations!” the scientist calls out with arms widespread.

  The Experi-mentor! He still has the giant “Ex” emblazoned on his chest, but with the lab coat unbuttoned, you can now clearly see the logo. Upgraded steam-punk goggles rest on his forehead.

  Dorian White makes a cautious step toward the fireplace, as if sensing a trap. He’s preparing himself. For what?

  “I see you’ve been busy since our little ‘accident,’” the Experi-mentor says. “And so have I. With Agent Droakam’s help—and his department’s funding—I managed to secure a bit of Phantom blood donated by the hospital…and I’ve been able to recreate the results of the experiment.”

  The room goes silent.

  “Wait, you’ve created more Supers?” Diamond asks.

  “And I thought he was the super-genius,” the Experi-mentor says, pointing to Nick and cackling with glee.

  “Good for you,” you say, trying to take back control of the situation. “But The Chimera isn’t taking new recruits just yet. So, if you’d like to leave your name and number with the secretary out front—”

  “See, that’s the thing,” Agent Droakam interrupts. “Uncle Sam doesn’t want incredibly powered heroes outside the purview of the Supersoldier Program. Too much risk.”

  “Soooooooo—we’ve come to collect,” the Experi-mentor adds.

  Droakam nods. “Come with us and we’ll simply reverse the experiment. I’ve been assured it’s theoretically possible.”

  “Oh, it is, it is,” the scientist says.

  “We just want to return you back to normal citizens. Back to being sons and daughters. Back to being college students, mothers, and average Joes. Being able to ‘turn off’ the powers of those inside Supersoldier Program is extremely important to us, and you’ll be well-compensated for helping your government in this way.”

  “Not that you’d need it,” the Experi-mentor says, looking around the den of your floating mansion.

  “It’s the right thing to do, and I’ve got a presidential order for your detainment right here,” Droakam says, reaching into his breast pocket. “Please come quietly.”

  • “You’re right, this whole ‘powers’ thing is pretty dangerous. I trust the government will be responsible with its use. Let’s go.”

  • “You can pry my telekinesis from my cold, dead hands. I am forevermore…The Phantom.”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Newsworthy

  There’s no one in the lobby of your apartment building, so you head into the out-of-order elevator shaft and fly up to the fourth floor, where you find a petite blonde waiting by your ap
artment door. She turns to meet you and immediately you recognize reporter Alison Argyle, though she looks shorter than she does on TV.

  “Hi, I’m Alison,” she says, with her winning smile.

  “I know who you are,” you respond, somewhat starstruck.

  “Do you live here?”

  You look at your door but say nothing.

  “I’m investigating the Mercury University explosion, and I found your name on a signed waiver. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  Still you say nothing, this time staring at her blankly.

  “Did you just come from the elevator? I thought it was out of order.”

  • Better invite her in….

  • Threaten her. Maybe a little “display” will scare her off?

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Nickless Wonder

  You don’t give the decision a second thought; that’s how being the boss works. The only lingering doubt is, What if he’s like me? Guess you’ll know for sure if security reports indicate he dispatched your goons before flying away.

  “What’s next?” you ask the casino staffers.

  “Public takeover announcement,” Su-Young says.

  Stockton nods. “Not to mention a statement to your shareholders. If you don’t step forward in a display of confidence, the value of your on-the-level holdings will plummet overnight.”

  “Does that mean I have holdings that are…not on-the-level?” you ask.

  Halifax clears his throat and says, “There were a number of—well, illegal activities Nelson controlled. Now that he’s out of the picture, there might be some underlings who think it’s their turn to step up. A show of strength here would go a long way.”

  Excellent points to consider. If your new acquisition comes with a complete criminal underbelly, you’d best get a handle on your foot soldiers before they rebel. But the whole point of owning a casino is the money. So which is priority number one? CEO, or Mafia Don?