The Superhero's Summit (The Superhero's Son Book 3)

by Lucas Flint

  Finally, after what seemed like forever but was probably just a few seconds, Robert could not feel anymore energy going into his body. So he shoved Ghost back, sending the idiot falling backwards onto the road with a gasp.

  “What?” said Ghost. He looked down at his hands. “What did you do? What was that?”

  Rising to his feet, Robert looked down at his own hands. They looked normal enough, but he felt something deep inside him that he hadn't felt before. It was a like a tiny, warm fire, steadily burning within him and keeping him warm and toasty, but more than that, it made him feel strong, strong enough to take on anyone and anything.

  He looked up at Ghost, who had gotten back to his feet. Ghost was sweating now, but to his credit, he clearly wasn't going to run away.

  “I don't know how you did that, but I'm not going to let you get away,” said Ghost. “This time, I'll knock you out, even if that gets Thaumaturge on my case.”

  Ghost closed his eyes and started grunting. Robert kept expecting Ghost to turn transparent and fly through him again, but as the seconds ticked by, Ghost remained as solid as ever.

  Finally, after a few awkward moments of grunting, Ghost opened his eyes and looked at his body as if there was something wrong with it. “What the hell? Why can't I use my powers?” He looked up at Robert, anger blazing in his eyes. “What did you do? Are you responsible for this?”

  Robert was about to say that no, of course he wasn't, because he didn't have any powers of his own. But then he stopped and, remembering the fire within, raised his right hand and focused on making it transparent.

  And then, without warning, his hand became as clear as glass.

  “Huh?” said Ghost. He no longer sounded angry; instead, he sounded fearful. “How did you do that? I was told you don't have any powers.”

  “You're right,” said Robert. He smiled the most savage smile he could muster. “But I do have your powers now.”

  As if he did this every day, Robert turned completely transparent and flew through Ghost's body. Ghost gasped in pain before he fell down to the road on his hands and knees, shivering as Robert rematerialized behind him. Robert looked down at his body again, which felt as solid as ever, as the implications of what just happened sank into his mind.

  He turned around to face Ghost again. Ghost was pitifully trying to get up again, but Robert didn't want him to get up, so he kicked Ghost in the side as hard as he could with his steel-toed boot. The blow knocked Ghost onto his side, while Robert walked around him toward his discarded baseball bat that lay only a few feet away.

  “I-Impossible,” said Ghost through chattering teeth. “H-How did you steal my powers?”

  Robert bent over, picked up his bat, and dusted it off before turning around to face Ghost again, who now looked like an ugly thing that Robert would have to scrap off the underside of his boot. “No idea. Maybe God gave me this power.”

  “G-God?” Ghost repeated. “You're a b-believer?”

  Robert shrugged. “My mother was always a good Catholic, but I never really believed any of that stuff. But maybe there is a God out there after all, a God who gave me this power.”

  “W-Why would G-God give you a power?” Ghost asked skeptically.

  Robert smiled again and held his bat in both hands. He walked over to Ghost, who was now looking up at him in fear, but Robert felt no fear at all, only a savage desire to get revenge.

  Stopping in front of Ghost, Robert looked down at him and said, “To avenge my parents. But before I do that, I think I'll take a few minutes to make you into an example of what happens to anyone who pisses me off.”

  Robert raised his bat above his head and started beating down on the defenseless Ghost. Ghost cried out in pain at first, but after the third or fourth hit, he stopped making any noise at all and the only sound was of Robert's wooden bat smashing Ghost's flesh and bones into pieces.

  When Robert finished, he lowered his bloody bat, dug through Ghost's pockets, took Ghost's phone (which had somehow managed to survive the beating with only a small crack on the screen), and then turned around and dialed the last number Ghost had called.

  A second later, Robert heard someone pick up and then a deep and ancient voice said, “Ghost? What is the matter? I told you that Hopper will be there soon. Be patient.”

  “I'm not Ghost,” said Robert. “And don't bother asking for him. He's a little indisposed at the moment.”

  There was silence on the other end before the voice said, “Then who is this? Robert Candle?”

  “Yep,” said Robert, resting his bloody bat on his shoulder. “Son of Master Chaos. And you are Thaumaturge, right? I heard Ghost talking to you earlier.”

  “Yes, that's my name,” said Thaumaturge, but he sounded tense. “What do you want?”

  Robert didn't answer right away, because Thaumaturge's name sparked a memory in his head. “You're a servant of that Barnabas Sagan guy, right? A member of his cult, Eye Sight or whatever? I saw the report on the news when the story broke.”

  “The proper name of our movement is Vision,” said Thaumaturge stiffly. “Our mission is to create a world without inequalities and where the false social constructs that oppress us all are overthrown and replaced by love.”

  “Right, right,” said Robert. “If I recall right, it was Bolt who exposed you guys and defeated your leader. Sagan's a vegetable lying in a hospital somewhere right now, isn't he?”

  “Our glorious Visionary is,” said Thaumaturge. “And it was Bolt who put him in that situation. What is your point?”

  “I was thinking …” He stopped and inhaled the sweet smell of Ghost's blood before continuing. “We both hate Bolt. He's harmed both of us. Why don't we work together to bring him down?”

  “Work together?” Thaumaturge said. “Why? You don't even have any powers. What would we have to gain by forming an alliance with you?”

  “Because unlike you losers, I have a plan to defeat him,” said Robert. “A plan that I can guarantee will take him out of the superhero game for good, which will not only give me the revenge I deserve, but also help your little 'movement' finally get somewhere. What do you say?”

  Thaumaturge went silent for a solid minute, which Robert almost took as a rejection.

  But then Thaumaturge said, “I am listening.”

  Robert smiled, feeling the drying blood of Ghost on his lips. “Good. But first, send someone to take me to your base. I'll tell you all about my plan to defeat Bolt once and for all there.”

  BOLT WILL RETURN IN The Superhero's Powers, COMING AUGUST 2016.

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  About the Author

  Lucas Flint is the pen name that Timothy L. Cerepaka writes superhero novels under. You can find out more by visiting his website here.