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

by James Schannep

  “Okay, let’s start with a smaller test: My car, outside. Pick it up, set it down, but be gentle. Let’s pretend we’ve got a baby in a car-seat strapped inside.”

  You nod, focused. Determined. Agent Droakam follows you out to the SUV, ready to see you as a gentle giant. You go to the front of the car, put both hands on the bumper, and lift—but gently.

  The bumper rips off in your hands and the SUV doesn’t budge.

  Droakam groans. “You’ve seen too many superhero TV shows. You may not be bound by the same restrictions as the rest of us, but you’re still subject to the laws of physics. Try again, but tip the car up by its side, then lift the car by its frame. Like the guys do down at the automotive shop—center mass, sturdiest piece.”

  You do as he says, easily lifting the car over your head. Feeling confident, you toss the car into the air, spinning it like pizza dough. As you catch it again, the SUV creaks on its suspension. Then you set it down, gently.

  Droakam steps toward you, pulls out his handgun, and shoots you in the kneecap.

  “Hey!” you shout, reaching down defensively.

  “That’s for the car,” he says. “And to test your damage resistance.”

  When you take your hand from your knee, there’s no blood. No wound whatsoever. But there could have been! Anger billows up inside, and you impulsively take the agent’s handgun from him.

  You bite into the barrel. A chunk comes off in your mouth like chocolate candy, and you chew it up and spit it out.

  “Jesus,” Droakam says.

  • Say, “I think I’m ready for my first mission.”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Queen of the Dead

  In a frightening display of strength and speed, Baxter rushes over and kills the scientist known as Dr. Necromancy. A killer robot fighting a nerd? She never had a chance. And it looks like her namesake power doesn’t apply to herself.

  Dr. Mind-Control puts one hand on her temple and Nick’s eyes glaze over. In a flying leap, he tackles Baxter. But the woman can only control one mind at a time!

  “The telekinetic is about to be told to attack Dr. Mind-Control,” Dr. Reader says.

  Damn it! You were about to say that.

  Dr. Hallucination puts his hands on his head. Catherine is suddenly rendered useless, fighting some internal battle against an unknown pain.

  “The FBI agent is about to use his weapon,” Dr. Reader announces.

  Agent Droakam draws his handgun, but Nick flings a hapless Baxter at the agent—instantly crushing the man. You rush forward to attack the scientist controlling Nick, but Catherine comes out of her stupor and chokes you with the power of mind.

  “Catherine, it’s me!” you wheeze, but her eyes are miles away.

  Whatever hallucination she’s experiencing, she wants you dead. And she gets what she wants. The last thing you hear is the Experi-mentor cackling with glee.

  THE END

  The Quickening

  “That’s fine, I’ll take this world when we’re done,” Catherine explains. “You can literally have your pick of infinite worlds. Now let’s do this.”

  “I’m sorry, but may I ask what you’re discussing?” the other-you asks.

  “This.” Catherine taps a few commands in her tech-glove and the sequence starts again.

  The rifle turns and blasts into your doppelganger. When she releases the trigger, the other-you lets out a pain-filled cry and falls to the ground. It hurts in a strange way, to see yourself victimized like this. But empathy melts away when Catherine adjusts a setting on the weapon, turns and shoots you with the double batch of stolen superpowers.

  It feels like you’re being ripped apart and sewn back together, which probably isn’t far off on the subatomic level. You feel strong and powerful once more. And incredibly hungry. Then the world blooms with a new light, like you’ve opened your eyes for the first time. You enter a state of hyper-observation and all your old memories and experiences coalesce to form new conclusions. Instantly, you understand how her weapon works and why the transfer must be unique. Of course! The secrets of the universe have just been laid out before you.

  “Oh, wow,” you say. “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….” the other-you replies, still in shock.

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

  “Roman?” your doppelganger parrots.

  You look over the staff the other-you brought from the parallel universe, the one with the jeweled tip. “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!” In a burst of understanding, it occurs to you that you really can set the device to go anywhere. Hell, you could send Nick and Catherine back to the stone age—right here and right now—and be done with them for good.

  • Nah. Ruling my own universe seems like a decent goal. Besides, there’s still another power waiting for me and I really can’t wait to fly.

  • Brilliant. Lie to them, send them stranded to a terribly lethal universe, and set up shop here.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Quicksilver

  Prostitutes, pimps, and low-level dealers walk the wooden gangways, looking for those brave enough to bring money into the maze of warehouse alleys. You’re only safe here when you’re buying, and even then it’s risky, which makes it the perfect spot to dispense some vigilante justice.

  “You look lost, honey,” a working girl says by way of greeting.

  “Out for a walk,” you say.

  “Walk on the wild side?” She winks.

  “Just a walk.”

  A man steps out of the shadows. “Then you gotta pay the toll.”

  “I don’t want any trouble,” you say, though you’re brimming with excitement.

  “Empty your pockets, and I’ll think about leaving your pretty face.”

  Metal gleams under the dock lights. A switchblade.

  “You don’t want to do that,” you say.

  But you really, really, want him to do that. He steps forward, showing off the knife in case you didn’t first see it, menacing despite the secret you hold.

  “You’re not too bright, are you? Your money or your life!”

  “Why don’t you give me that,” you say. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”

  By force of mind, you pull the switchblade from his hand and bring it to your own. Dumbfounded, the thug looks from your hand to his own and back again. He rushes you with clenched fists and a growl of rage.

  You sidestep and use your telekinesis to shove the man against the wall, breaking his nose against the brick. Then, with a twirl of your finger, you make him spin around and pin him against the wall with your mind. Bringing the knife up to his throat with force of will, you let the blade hover only inches from his Adam’s apple.

  “No more threats?” you ask. “No angry demands?”

  All but paralyzed, his eyes dart off to the side, then back to you. “Jerry…do it.”

  You look just in time to see another thug brandishing a revolver; the hammer already falls back as he squeezes the trigger.

  Bang. You put out your hand to stop the bullet, but it’s too fast for your mind to process. The knife drops from the air, clatters against the gritty pavement. You fall to your knees and the man against the wall steps free.

  With another bang, you fall dead. Pride comes before the fall. In this case, so do bullets.

  THE END

  R2-C4

  Whe
n you enter the warehouse, it’s pitch-black. The overhead lights flick on automatically, but no sign of Nick. Yet, there it is, the mega-computer, alone and unassuming.

  “If he’s recreated the experiment results, they’ll be on that mainframe,” you say.

  Catherine nods and sits at the terminal. A screen pops up—ENTER USER/PASS.

  “So now we’ve got to guess his password,” she says.

  “Try ‘Paper’,” you suggest.

  No luck.

  “Supersoldier?”

  Nope.

  “Welcome!” When you turn back, you see Nick standing there, but he has a blue tint to his figure and the visage is translucent enough to see the small, tread-robot projecting the image from behind. In short, he’s a hologram. “I’ve been expecting you. It took me most of last night to program this greeting for you—I apologize I wasn’t able to see you work down at the bank this morning.”

  “Nick?” you say, dumbfounded.

  “Yes, it’s truly me. Or at least a proxy thereof. I’ve programmed this messaging system with a few answers to various questions to give clarification. You see, while I’m fairly certain you came here with ill intent, I’m also fairly certain I didn’t want to be here in the flesh to find out for myself. First things first—did you come here to surrender and assist the Supersoldier Program?”

  “I really don’t like that kid….” Catherine mutters.

  “No, Nick, we did not. We came to offer—”

  “A simple yes or no will suffice,” the program interrupts. “I registered ‘no.’ Is that correct?”

  “Affirmative,” Catherine says, in a mock-robot voice.

  “Very well. Ah! I see you’re trying to gain access to my computer. Any luck at guessing the password?”

  “You can see us?” you ask.

  “There is a live video feed,” the hologram responds. “Did you try ‘Dorian Gray’? That’s G-R-A-Y.”

  The image smiles at you, waiting for a response. As Catherine punches the keys into the computer keyboard, a sinking feeling washes over you.

  “Catherine, wait!” you call out.

  But it’s too late. The computer powers-down.

  “Ah, thank you! I could have done the same remotely, but this is much more satisfying. You guys are hilarious—the old ‘guessing the password’ trope? What kind of fool do you take me for? My actual password is a string of jumbled characters, making no logical sense and impossible to guess. I shall truly cherish this video.”

  “Does being a genius automatically make you talk like a douche?” Catherine growls.

  “Okay, now that you entered the sequence, I have two messages to deliver. The first is for you, Catherine. I’m on a fishing trawler parked at pier 1890. Wilde Fisheries. Your son Danny is with here with me, but please do bring the contents of the Mercury Bank vault when you come to pick him up. We’ll call it an even swap.”

  Catherine roars with inhuman ferocity and smashes against the computer terminal, spraying metal and circuitry across the warehouse laboratory.

  “And for you, my one-time colleague and friend, I should like to properly reward you for your betrayal. You get to be a permanent relic in this warehouse. Remember when Agent Droakam said that every advancement we’ve made since the Cold War is housed here in this lab? Count yourself among them. The lab was rigged with explosives in case of a communist takeover, and that code you put into the computer I rigged to the self-destruct sequence. And the two-minute timer ends in three, two, one—”

  The recesses of the warehouse erupt in a fiery explosion, a chain reaction that starts from the outside and moves inward. It’s only a matter of milliseconds, but you see ripples of death rush toward you. Catherine will probably survive the explosion, but Nick seems to have a plan in place for her as well. Turns out he was ready for you after all, and it cost you dearly.

  THE END

  The Rainmaker

  How do you find a lone person in a city of nearly three million? Well, it helps if the person you’re looking for can fly. It also helps if they’re actively robbing a bank.

  When you arrive at the downtown branch of the Mercury City Bank, you see a cyclone of greenbacks pour out of the main doors. Cash rains down upon the throngs of bystanders in such a furious storm that the police barricade cannot possibly hope to contain it all.

  As expected, Nick floats out above the crowd with his arms spread wide and a grin to match.

  • Call out to him. You’ve got to get him away from the crowd and the police.

  • Do it now. Surprise attack! He’ll never see it coming while he’s playing weatherman.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Rampage

  Having grown up in Mercury City, you’ve been subjected to wave after wave of tourism, year after year, of the fat, rich, and clueless. You’ve often fantasized about pushing them into the fountains they pose in front of, or seeing some dope accidentally step in front of traffic as he stares up at Mercury Tower.

  But you’re forced to fantasize no longer. Time to let the monster out of its cage.

  You land on the viewing platform atop Mercury Tower, floating in over the 15-foot-tall fence. A collective gasp overtakes the crowd of tourists at the viewing ports—a full-fledged superhuman isn’t in the guidebooks, after all. Their wide-eyed gazes all settle on you, cameras at the ready.

  The first tourist snaps your picture, a man with a neckbeard who wears a Nickelback t-shirt. You lift him into the air, arm outstretched in a show of power.

  He lets out a series of uncomfortable groans and kicks his legs in wild defiance. You throw him over the security fence and into the open air. His screams quickly fade as he falls.

  Hahahahahaha.

  You’re laughing aloud, you realize, and the crowd gives nothing but horrified screams in response. It’s almost too easy, like a fox in a henhouse. They press against the elevator doors, frantically pressing the call button.

  “Take the next one.” You sweep your arms apart, and telekinetically sweep the crowd like the Dead Sea. They eagerly let you into the elevator by yourself.

  When the lift opens at the main floor, you casually walk out, smile and nod to the security guard at the front desk, and head outside.

  It should be a few minutes before the reports come in about someone being thrown off a building, but by then you’ll have committed far worse crimes, won’t you? Fortunately, the “jumper” landed on the back side of the building and so the sheep out front are clueless.

  There’s something satisfying about that moment when mortals suddenly realize there’s a god among them, but you’ll only get this experience a few times until fear of the wolf spreads through the flock—so it’s best to savor.

  “People of Mercury City!” You float up over the crowd gathered in the square, arms raised out by your sides, cape flowing magnificently. A few look up to you, but this is a society of cynics and street magicians, so most of the population goes about their business.

  Time to ramp it up. Looking down at an approaching cab, you close your eyes and picture yourself in the driver’s seat. You mentally press the gas pedal and lurch the steering wheel to send the taxi up over the curb and into the crowd.

  “DIE!!!” you cry, opening your eyes to see the carnage. It’s like putting a magnifying glass on a hill of ants, except in this case, you’re the sun.

  Mercury Tower’s security guard finally gets wise and rushes out to save the day. Oh, how pitiful. You steer your toy taxi cab at him and knock him back inside the building, leaving the cab parked in the doorway atop his limp body.

  With a boundless sense of omnipotence, you turn toward the fleeing public, and reach out. You can feel their beating hearts, and stop them by power of will. You are a monster, you are the devil come to earth, a Godzilla of glee.

  Police sirens wail through the air, and the cavalry comes to take you out. Ahhh, finally a challenge! You set down on solid ground, readying your concentration for the battle to come. It significantly slows their arri
val when you fling civilians in front of their patrol cars.

  The first hero cop exits his car and takes a well-trained strategic position behind the armored door. Armor means nothing to you, for you are unstoppable!

  You force the man to aim the handgun at himself, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s down. The handgun floats up into the air at your command, ready to engage those foolish enough to target you next.

  If only they would bow down before you, perhaps you would show mercy, but then again—perhaps not. The second and third police officers go down exactly like the first, serving to increase your floating arsenal and strengthen your position.

  By the time you collect half-a-dozen floating handguns, there’s no reason to bother with the men individually. Instead, you rain bullets from the sky. They’re too confused and instead look for the invisible, airborne assassin.

  You’ve defeated the first wave and an eerie silence envelops the downtown. A dozen patrol cars sit empty in the streets. Bodies strewn everywhere. How can they possibly hope to defeat you? Have they given up? Are they calling in the army?

  In the silence, you grow bored. Maybe you should fly somewhere else and start it all again. Check out the suburbs, or a shopping mall, or—how odd—tastes like copper.

  CRACK! A lone gunshot rings through the still air, but from where? There’s no one nearby, despite the smoke twirling before you. Smoke from the hole in your forehead.

  You may be master of all you see, but you can’t compete with the Marine-trained snipers on the Mercury PD SWAT Team—Hoorah! Your reign of terror is over.

  THE END

  Redefining “Superpower”

  “Really? That was easy,” Agent Droakam says. “Thanks!”

  The Experi-mentor sighs, clearly disappointed. “Very reasonable. The rest of you?”

  “All for one and one for all….” Catherine says, removing her Diamond mask and throwing it into the flames of the fireplace.