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

by James Schannep

  The three of them look back at you, a wolfish grin on Catherine’s face and something cruel in Nick’s eyes. You recognize the look on your alter-ego—it’s the one that says, I just got the answer key to the final exam.

  “I’m sorry, but may I ask what you’re discussing?” you ask nervously.

  “This.” Catherine taps a few commands on her tech-glove.

  The future-rifle turns and blasts into you. A beam surrounds you, immobilizing your body and sapping you of your energy. You can feel your intellect slip away. When she releases the trigger, you let out a painful cry, but fall to your knees, helpless.

  She adjusts a setting on the weapon, turns and shoots the other you—who accepts your stolen superpower as a new gift. “Oh, wow,” your doppelganger says. “Is this how you see the world?”

  Catherine shrugs. “Let’s go find the other two.”

  “Where’s the rest of your team?” Nick asks.

  “I—we—didn’t….” you reply, still in shock.

  “That’s too bad,” Catherine says. “Roman, can you get us out of here?”

  “Roman?” you parrot.

  Your evil twin looks over the staff you brought from the parallel universe, and says, “This! This controls everything.”

  “Well, I coulda guessed that,” Nick says.

  “Can you make it work?” Catherine asks.

  “Easily. I—that is, the other me—set the device to look for other versions of us. Big mistake, obviously, but that’s why it opened to our universe. We were the closest in physical proximity to the parameters set.”

  “And you know how to reset the parameters, then?”

  “Precisely, yes!”

  Soon the air sparks and the shimmering purple gate appears once more.

  “What are you going to do with me?” you ask.

  With a devilish smirk, your alter-ego says, “You have war crimes to answer for.”

  Then they step through the portal and into another universe. The gate closes behind them, leaving you powerless and stranded in a world where you’re a super-criminal known as Roman. Not as bad a universe as if the Nazis had won the war, obviously, but you’ve got a bad feeling you just unleashed a different kind of evil upon the multiverse.

  THE END

  Post-Haste

  After saying goodbye to Nick, you head home, ready for a bit of normalcy after such a dramatic day. A taxi drops you off outside your apartment building, and you check the lobby mailbox out of habit. The latch is perpetually sticky—but today is the day when enough is finally enough.

  After jiggling the key to find the right angle, you open the box and examine the mechanism. Turning the key back and forth, you watch the latch change position 90 degrees at a time. Hmm, too tight.

  Looking about, you see the elevator is cordoned off with some nylon rope and an “out of order” sign. But what truly catches your attention is the canvas tool bag sitting just outside. You claim a pair of plyers and a screwdriver and apply three quick twists. As easy as that, it’s fixed. Why didn’t you do that months ago? In fact, how long has the elevator been out of order?

  You step over the nylon rope and bring the tool bag into the elevator. The control panel is already open, with a bird’s nest of wires hanging out for inspection. You follow the wiring pattern and the error presents itself to you in such a way as to seem obvious. With a few quick modifications, you repair the elevator.

  Finding the restart switch intuitively, you bring the elevator back to life. Once you’ve pushed the “stop” button back in, the doors close. Number four, please!

  When you arrive at your apartment, you’re still marveling at how simple these last two tasks offered their solutions. In fact, the whole world seems more ordered, less random and chaotic. It’s as if all that beautiful energy from the lab entered your mind and did a bit of housecleaning before it shot back out.

  On impulse, you sit down and pull up an online IQ test. Within five minutes you’re finished. You find the quiz about as taxing as the average adult might find a paint-by-numbers coloring book.

  A message pops up on-screen: “Perfect 100% score! It doesn’t take an Einstein to know that cheating defeats the purpose of these tests. Yes, one can find an answer key online, but what good is an unearned ego boost?”

  It thinks you cheated? Ha! As if. What complete and utter bullshit. You stand up and walk over to your apartment window, looking to the skyscrapers of Mercury City beyond. Measuring intelligence is like measuring height. Some are tall, some are short, most are average. Now there’s you—a skyscraper. You can’t even appear on the same graph, you’d throw off the scale and the entire bell curve would be flattened to near zero.

  Turning back, the natural world speaks its secret formula to you: furniture tells of moments and angles, cleaning supplies whisper of compounds bonded in household objects, and the coding behind your electronics beg to be dissected, expanded and explored. The imperfections of modern society are laughable. So what’s a newly-minted super-genius to do?

  • Give yourself a real test. Something beyond your reach to show your limits. Something that’s been plaguing humanity’s greatest minds for far too long.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Powerless

  “You asked for it,” you say.

  You gather your mental strength and shove Catherine with all your telekinetic might, aiming to hurl her through the wall. But she doesn’t budge. It’s like trying to force a battering ram against a thick castle wall.

  Instead, you tumble backwards in an equal but opposite reaction, landing against the rear wall of your apartment. Momentarily stunned, you quickly rise to your feet and see her smiling. Catherine calmly walks toward you, savoring the moment.

  Alison Argyle, however, stares at the two of you with wide-eyed terror.

  You dig your feet into the floor to get a grip, then pull at your refrigerator as hard as you can in an effort to pin Catherine beneath it. She batters the appliance away with an easy backhand.

  This isn’t working. Time for a new strategy.

  • Go for lethal. Touch her mind—Murder by aneurysm!

  • There’s only one way out of this—grab Alison Argyle as a hostage.

  • Fly out the window!

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Profession Non Grata

  “Sorry, it’s nothing personal,” you say. “I’m just not cut out to be a government stooge. No offense.”

  Agent Droakam purses his lips and gives a curt nod. “And Nick? What about you?”

  “I’m pretty sure you can’t legally follow us around, unless we’re implicated in a crime. Right?” Nick asks.

  “Well, there are benefits to being a part of a shadow agency. But for now, you’re free to go. Looks like ‘flower shop van’ it is,” the agent says with a smirk.

  You can’t tell if he’s trying to be funny.

  * * *

  He’s not trying to be funny. Later that night, there’s a van parked outside of your apartment building labeled Flowers. No business name, no phone number, nothing. Just Flowers.

  The way you figure it, there are three ways to deal with a tail. The first is to waste his time. He’s gotta have superiors, right? If you make the mission a joke, they’ll leave you alone.

  Or, you could disappear, give him the slip, and hide out somewhere no one would ever look for you. Eventually, he’ll give up or turn his attentions to Nick or Catherine.

  The third option is to get so rich and powerful that your private security will take care of the likes of Agent Droakam for you.

  • Option 1: I want to mess with people—maybe pretend there’s a ghost in that creepy old restaurant down the street.

  • Option 2: Get outta Dodge and disappear for a while.

  • Option 3: No time for small potatoes. Off to the casino—I’m going to make a killing at roulette!

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Public Enemy

  Back at your penthouse suite, all manner of vices await, ready to
help you unwind. Now that you’ve demonstrated your power, should you have a Cuban cigar? Glass of absinthe? Maybe phone in some adult company?

  Still deciding, you nearly faint when you see your picture plastered across the TV screen. You rush over and turn the volume up in time to hear reporter Alison Argyle say, “Witnesses confirm that the one-time roulette gambler made a fortune on the floors of the Planet Mercury Casino before security personnel arrived to escort the high roller up to Nelson Bloodnight’s penthouse suite. Minutes later, the casino boss fell to his death. Police are investigating suspicion of foul play and will subpoena the casino for access to security footage.”

  Son of a….That’s not good. What now?

  “Sheriff?” Su-Young’s voice chirps in on the intercom. “Sheriff, Mercury PD is here. They’re on their way up right now—they have a warrant.”

  Shit! You rush out to the balcony, then up to the roof. It’s only a temporary solution, but the cops shouldn’t find you tonight. The rooftop houses a helipad landing, and the helicopter sits unused on its perch. Doubt you’ll have much need of it, but it’s good to know it’s there. Of course that means there’s roof access, so you keep a wary eye on the door, just in case.

  “Predictable,” someone says from the shadows.

  “Nick?” you say, thinking you recognize the college student’s voice.

  He steps forward out of the darkness. Nick wears a motorcycle helmet, a skin-tight suit forged of a synthetic chainmail-like material, and has ridiculously oversized boots and forearm gauntlets. The effect makes him look like he just stepped out of a Mega-man videogame.

  “What’re you…how?” you say, so many questions coming out at the same time.

  “How did I know? You went into an elevator that only goes to the penthouse suite; where else would you be?”

  “And you’re here, why? To take your revenge because I threw you out of my casino?” you say, inching closer to the roof’s edge.

  “Oh, nothing quite so dramatic. Don’t run, okay? Believe me, I understand your decision, but you made the classic blunder—friends close, enemies closer. Speaking of which, where is Catherine? She took the stairs, but she can take them one landing at a time.”

  “You’re working with her?”

  “Absolutely—you’re a high-profile crime lord! She had some personal history with Nelson Bloodnight, and that anger transferred to you, apparently. Honestly, I would have loved to work together; there are a lot of resources at your disposal here. We could have had a lot of fun, in another life. But you made your bed, as they say, time to lie in it.”

  • You’ll never take me alive, Copper! Jump off the roof and fly away.

  • Fine, offer him a job. That’s obviously what he wants.

  • You’ve thrown one man who threatened you off this roof; what’s one more?

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Public Image

  Your first official act as ruler of Planet Mercury is to hold a press conference. A tailor arrives within the hour to make ensure you’ll be camera-ready while you practice your speech with Su-Young. Now, sharply-dressed and cameras on you, it’s finally time to address the sea of reporters—and, by extension, your shareholders at large.

  “Nelson Bloodnight and I have been friends for years, and truth be told, I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for this tragedy. I knew he had problems, but his suicide….”

  You wipe a fake tear from your eye with a handkerchief.

  “That said, I have Nelson’s witnessed signature naming me as sole heir to his empire. I will honor the memory of my friend Nelson Bloodnight by expanding Planet Mercury Entertainment Group into a leading name in innovation and research. Not only in the leisure industry, but across multiple disciplines. Out of tragedy, we must rise from the ashes to create something beautiful. A legacy my friend would have been proud of. Thank you.”

  Wow, nailed it. Even better than in rehearsals. And the Oscar goes to….

  “Alison Argyle, Action News. When will Mr. Bloodnight’s final wishes be made available for public scrutiny? May we see the documents you referred to in your takeover speech?”

  “Of course. Please refer to the Planet Mercury legal team. No further questions, thank you.”

  You step off-stage and away from the cameras. Better get somebody started on a forgery, fast. Good thing you have an entire criminal underworld at your disposal.

  * * *

  The limo pulls up to Mercury City’s warehouse district, the location where you’re to meet your chiefs of criminal industry. It’s been a long, exhausting day. You stifle a yawn and wait for the driver to open your door.

  Inside one of the darkly menacing buildings—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 put on your toughest glare and stare right back. “There’s a new sheriff in town. I’m the new owner of Planet Mercury, and I’m taking over where Bloodnight left off. If any of you have a problem….”

  “We know, we all saw you on TV,” one man says.

  Another adds, “He was a great guy, but you were his best friend. It must be doubly hard for you.”

  “You guys watch the news?” you ask, surprised.

  “Just because we’re criminals doesn’t mean we don’t stay informed,” a third says, folding his arms.

  “Oh, I didn’t…”

  “Yeah, we’re very cultured. There’s even a book club we do once a month, if you’re interested,” says a fourth.

  Jorge Halifax, your head of security, steps over and whispers a private message. “Sheriff, there’s an attack going on in one of your warehouses. Just a coupla’ blocks away, there’s a fire and we….”

  • Time to show your new staff what happens when you mess with The Sheriff! Fly over and teach whoever it is a lesson they’ll not soon forget.

  • Scream, “Isn’t that what I pay you for!? Handle it!” Then go get some sleep.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Pulp and Conspiracy

  The policeman lowers his notepad and gives you a long appraisal. He chews the inside of his cheek while his eyes squint with consideration. “That’s not how law enforcement operates,” Sergeant Wilson finally says.

  Nick looks at you.

  “No, I don’t suppose it is,” you say. Then, in machine-gun prattle, you continue, “But today, that’s how I operate. Based on your concern over the name used to rent the lab, I’d say there’s more to this experiment than you’re letting on. Which is to say, perhaps the two of us might be in danger if there’s any illicit connection to our involvement in said event. Seeing as how we just narrowly avoided death, I’d like to keep that trend going and not have any surprise visitors. Furthermore, your body language tells me that you want whatever information we might possess and would ultimately be willing to compromise for it.

  “So let’s try this again—would you like to tell us what’s going on and receive our full cooperation in return? Or shall we plead the Fifth and request that a lawyer be present for any further interactions?”

  Nick and the cop both stare wide-eyed, and you suddenly feel your own expression matching theirs. Where the hell did that just come from? It’s like you were speaking before you even knew you had the thoughts. Sergeant Wilson lets out his breath in a huff, then nods in agreement.

  “And you better tell us the whole truth, or we’ll know!” Nick adds, tagging along.

  The policeman gives a hint of a smile, then shakes his head. “You two are too much. All right, fine. The name’s a known alias of an ethically bankrupt scientist. We’ve been tracking the group ‘Human Infinite Technologies’ for a while now, or at least the feds have. Mercury PD was tipped off that there might be some activity here, and I didn’t know it was related to your accident until I heard the name.”

  You think back to the lab. Human Infinite Technologies, that rings a bell. Was it stenciled on the equipment? “What kind of a
ctivities are they involved with?” you ask.

  The man shrugs. “As far as I know, anything questionable. Cloning, genetic experimentation, that type of thing. The group has a small legal foothold here in the States with some kind of anti-aging beauty supply line, but I’m sure it’s a front. They’ve been kicked out of China and one of their associates was recently indicted in Brazil. It’s only a matter of time before their black market schemes really start to hurt people.

  “So you two really just stumbled across this by accident?”

  You nod in unison with Nick.

  Sergeant Wilson sighs. “Consider yourself lucky. If this scientist reaches out to you, or you notice anything strange at all, call me immediately.”

  • Take his card and head home.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Push It to the Limit

  “No, that’s okay, your strength is fairly obvious and—”

  He stops short when you pick up a crate and spin it atop a single finger, like some sort of Herculean Harlem Globetrotter.

  “Oh, so no juggling, then?”

  You toss the crate across the room, smashing it (and whatever was inside) into a pile of other Top Secret assets. Droakam cringes.

  “We need to practice a deft touch. Soon enough you’ll meet with the President, and you need to be able to shake a hand without ripping it off.”

  “Got it. Also, we should probably order some take-out soon.”