A Superhero's Legacy (The Legacy Superhero Book 1)

by Lucas Flint

  TW scratched the back of his neck. "True, my AI does reside in the Watch, but that doesn't make me immortal. You see, my AI is slowly fading away."

  "Fading away?" I said. "How does that make sense? If you're AI, doesn't that basically make you immortal?"

  TW shook his head. "No." He pointed at a broken down car sitting not far from us. "See that car and how it is decaying? All technology decays with time. Even the best, most advanced technology that is meticulously taken care of and given the appropriate repairs on a regular basis will eventually stop working or at least become less effective than it once was."

  "So you're decaying like that car?" I said.

  TW nodded. "Yes. I've been around for decades, and during much of that time, Gregory took good care of me, but my lifespan is nearly over. Gregory knows this, which is another reason he sent you the Watch."

  I frowned. "How much longer do you have? Do you think you're going to go away soon or--?"

  "I ... cannot say," said TW. "I may have as much as a year left, or as little as a month. It all depends on how much the rate of decay accelerates, which will happen if I am used too much."

  I was about to say that I didn't notice the decay, but then I noticed that the edges around TW's form were slightly fuzzy. It was a very slight effect, which I probably wouldn't have noticed under ordinary circumstances, but given what TW just told me, I realized that I was seeing his body decay right before my eyes.

  "But enough about my problems," said TW. "Let's enter the warehouse. I suggest taking your bicycle inside in order to ensure that it is not seen or stolen by anyone who might be around here."

  With that, TW disappeared back into the Watch. Grabbing my bike's handlebar, I walked over to the entrance, pushed it open just enough for me to enter, and then went inside. As soon as I was inside, I closed the door behind me, leaned my bike against the wall, and turned around to see what the interior of the warehouse was like.

  As TW had said, Warehouse 19 was fairly wide open, with plenty of room for me to practice without fear of harming or hitting anything. It was dark, but growing lighter by the minute thanks to the light streaming in through the grimy, cracked windows above. An abandoned forklift stood in one corner, while at the very back of the warehouse was a staircase which seemed to lead up to the warehouse's office. Old chains hung from the catwalks above, while a smell of dust and mold filled my nostrils. Just like the exterior, it was very quiet in here, though I heard a rat scurrying around somewhere nearby when I took a step forward. A tall, cracked mirror stood off to the side, covered in grit and dust.

  Without warning, TW reappeared by my side and turned to face me. "Now that we are here, it is time to begin your training. Open the Watch and put on your suit."

  I held the Watch up and flipped open the face to reveal that same red button that had saved my life yesterday, though it seemed like a lifetime ago now. "This?"

  "Yes," said TW, nodding. "You've pressed it before."

  "Yeah, I know," I said. "But is that all I have to do? Just press the button?"

  "Correct," said TW. "It really isn't as complicated as it looks. You see, the Watch contains the Trickshot costume as a form of energy. When you press the button, the energy suit covers your body and then becomes actual fabric that conforms to your unique body shape."

  "I figured as much," I said. "All right, here goes nothing."

  I pressed the button. Like yesterday, bright blue energy rolled down my arm and over my entire body. In less than a second, I stood in the Trickshot costume once again, standing before TW, who looked me up and down with an approving look on his face.

  "Excellent work," said TW. "You look just like Gregory, except younger."

  "Thanks," I said. "But I want to look at myself in the mirror first."

  I walked over to the cracked mirror I'd noticed earlier and stood in front of it. Yep, there was no doubt about it: This was the same costume Grandfather wore in his superhero days. The TS emblazoned on the chest, the red and blue body suit, the goggles that obscured my eyes from everyone else but enhanced my own vision, and even the long red cape I always thought looked cool. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would become a superhero, but here I was, wearing the same costume that Grandfather had worn to take down countless criminals and supervillains over his 30 year long career.

  "This is so cool," I said, flexing my muscles and striking poses in order to test the suit's full range of motion. "It's bulletproof, right?"

  "Right," said TW, floating over to stand behind me. "Additionally, it is fireproof, waterproof, and can adapt to nearly any change in temperature. It is not, however, cut-proof, so I suggest avoiding enemies that use swords, knives, and other sharp weapons, or at least keep your distance from them. Oh, and I nearly forgot to add that the Watch itself can change its form when you're not wearing your costume. That way, no one will know you're Trickshot when you're not wearing the costume."

  I stopped posing and looked at TW, a frown on my face. "So I could get hit by a machine gun and I'd be okay, but if someone stabbed me with a butter knife, I'd get hurt?"

  TW shrugged. "The suit isn't perfect. Frankly, I think you should just be happy it does everything else. Most superhero costumes cost an incredible amount of money for far fewer features than your suit has, while you got yours for free."

  "You sound just like Grandfather, you know that?" I said.

  "I was his personal assistant for thirty years," said TW. "I may have picked up on a few nuggets of wisdom from him in that time."

  "Right," I said. "Anyway, what else can the suit do? Is that it?"

  "More or less," said TW. "Aside from the powers it gives you, of course."

  "Powers," I repeated. "Super strength, durability, and perfect aim, right? Those were the powers Grandfather had."

  "Don't forget flight," TW said. "You can fly as well."

  "I can?" I said. "Cool, let me try."

  I jumped into the air as high as I could and then fell back down to the floor on my feet.

  "What?" I said, looking at my feet. "Why didn't I fly?"

  "Because you will need to be taught how to do it," said TW. "Remember why we're here. You will learn how to do all of this in time."

  I looked up at TW, feeling slightly disappointed. "But I don't get it. When Grandfather passed the Superhero Exam, you said he got flight as his power when he was injected with Superpower. So how do I have the same power if that's what Grandfather has?"

  "It's another feature of the costume," said TW. "It can actually copy whatever powers you have and make them part of the suit. That way, other people who wear the suit can use your same powers."

  "You mean if I passed the Superhero Exam and got injected with Superpower, that it would copy whatever power I got as a result of that?" I said in surprise.

  TW nodded. "Correct. But you are not going to take the Superhero Exam, at least not yet, so I wouldn't worry about that if I were you."

  I nodded to show understanding, but privately, I was wondering if there were a limit to how many superpowers the suit could copy. If every single superhero in the country--or even the world--wore this suit just once, then anyone who wore it afterward would become the most powerful superhero on the planet. Not that I thought that would ever happen, of course, but it was still fun--and a little scary--to think about.

  "Now, let us start your training," said TW. "Come over to the center of the warehouse, where we will begin our first lesson."

  TW and I walked over to the center of the warehouse, kicking up dust and dirt as we walked. I coughed a lot, while TW, of course, was completely unaffected, which made me a little jealous of him, but I didn't say anything. We stopped in the very center of the warehouse and then stood facing each other like opponents about to wrestle.

  "All right," I said, punching my fist into my open hand. "Let's start the first lesson. Which power will I get to learn how to use first?"

  "Super strength," said TW without delay. He pointed at the aband
oned forklift. "Lift that forklift over your head once and then put it back down."

  "That seems simple," I said, "but okay. Watch and be amazed."

  I walked over to the abandoned forklift. It wasn't a very big forklift--I'd seen bigger ones at Dad's construction sites--but it was definitely heavier than any normal human could hope to lift on their own. But with the Trickshot costume on, I wasn't a normal human. I was a super human, a superhero to be more specific, and I could do things that most people only dreamed of.

  Stopping behind the forklift, I got a good, tight grip on its underside and then lifted with all my might. But no matter how hard I tried to lift it, it wouldn't budge even one inch off the concrete floor of the warehouse. I struggled, grunting loudly under my breath the entire time, but the forklift stayed stubbornly where it was.

  "Having trouble?" said TW, hovering behind me like a ghost.

  I looked over my shoulder at him in annoyance. "Yeah. Why can't I lift it? I remember using my super strength yesterday to send one of those Injectors flying. So why can't I do the same to this stupid forklift?"

  "Because, like I said, I was helping you yesterday," said TW. "You must put more focus into lifting the forklift before you can use your super strength. It's not a very difficult skill to learn, really, but it does require some effort to do."

  "How do I focus?" I said. "Do I just close my eyes and try really, really hard or is there more to it than that?"

  "You're not far off the mark," said TW. He tapped the side of his head. "First, you must focus on activating your super strength. Force your super strength to manifest in your body. Tell the costume to fill your body with the strength to lift this forklift. Command it, the way a general commands his army. Don't let any hesitation enter your mind, otherwise it won't work."

  "All right," I said, standing up and dusting off my suit. "Let me try to command my costume to give me my super strength and see how that works."

  I closed my eyes and focused as hard as I could on my costume. It was kind of awkward at first, because I felt like I wasn't really doing anything initially except just standing there in the warehouse with my eyes closed.

  But then I felt the costume. I felt the way it covered my body and the powers that were at its command. I knew that those powers could be mine, but only if the costume would give them to me.

  So I said, in my mind, Give me my super strength. Give it to me now.

  No response from my costume.

  Frustrated, I opened my eyes and looked at TW. "It's not listening."

  "Try again," said TW. "The costume doesn't know you, so it isn't inclined to listen to you the way it listened to Gregory yet. Just command it more forcefully. It responds to strength, not weakness."

  "Strength, not weakness," I repeated. "Okay, let me try again."

  I closed my eyes and felt the costume again. Give me my super strength. I want it now, not later. I command that you give it to me.

  Again, no response. This time, I was sure that the costume heard me, but for some reason was just ignoring me. It was probably because it didn't know me yet, like TW said, but I still felt frustrated at its obstinacy. It reminded me of a puppy that won't listen to its owner, so I'd just have to be tougher.

  Listen here, you stupid costume, I said, I know I'm not Grandfather and I know that you don't trust me because of it. But guess what? I'm your owner now. So you have to listen to me, even if you don't like it. Got it?

  Still no response. I was frustrated enough to seriously consider taking off my suit and trying again another day, because I was starting to lose my patience with this costume and I didn't want to keep telling it what to do fruitlessly like this.

  But then it occurred to me why the suit wasn't listening to me and what I could do to get it to pay attention to my commands.

  So I said, Okay, I know you probably miss Grandfather, because you were his costume for thirty years, which is a pretty long time to work alongside someone. But Grandfather gave you to me because he wants me to use you to save Rumsfeld from some threat, probably the Injectors. If you don't do what I tell you to, Grandfather will be very disappointed in you, and you don't want to disappoint him, do you?

  Once more, no response. That was almost enough to make me rip off this dumb costume and throw it away, but then, without warning, strength flooded my limbs and I suddenly felt like I could lift the entire warehouse over my head.

  My eyes popping open, I grabbed the forklift with both hands and lifted it above my head, yelling all the while. The forklift weighed practically nothing in my hands. I almost threw it away, but then remembered what TW told me about being quiet, and so I gently rested it back on the floor where it had stood before.

  I stood back up and turned around to face TW, who was looking at me with an impressed look in his eyes.

  "Impressive," said TW. "How did you master it so quickly?"

  I shrugged. "I just told the costume that Grandfather would be disappointed if it didn't help me. I'm surprised it worked myself."

  "Interesting," said TW, though he seemed to sense something more in that than I did, based on his tone. "Well, let's resume our training. You need to be able to call upon your powers consistently, so keep lifting the forklift. We'll do that until lunch and then take a break."

  I nodded and turned around to pick up the forklift again, but at the same time, I couldn't help but think about what TW found so interesting about how I managed to get the suit to work for me. Maybe there was more to this costume than met the eye.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  By the end of my first lesson, I felt great. Though the suit was still rather finnicky--at times, it didn't want to give me strength and at other times my super strength would nearly give out while I was lifting the forklift over my head--I had still made a remarkable amount of progress in a fairly short amount of time, according to TW. He mentioned that Grandfather mastered the Watch faster than me, but he said I did well nonetheless.

  We decided to take a quick lunch break. I had packed a peanut butter sandwich and chips for lunch, but I was still very hungry even after eating that.

  "Not surprising," said TW when I mentioned that. "You did a lot of work today. You should probably have a larger than usual dinner tonight in order to make up for all of the calories you burned."

  Sitting on an overturned crate, I sipped my soda and nodded. "Yeah, I think I will. But if I keep working like this, will I get big and buff?"

  "The costume isn't magic," said TW, floating next to me. "It won't grant you muscles like that. To build muscle, you need to eat good foods, work out, and get plenty of sleep, regardless of whether you have powers or not."

  I frowned and looked at the forklift, which no longer looked quite as intimidating as it did before. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But if I can master this suit, then I won't need to hit the gym to get strong, right?"

  "Right," said TW, nodding, "though I recommend maintaining a strict training regimen nonetheless. There will be times where you won't always have access to the Watch, so learning how to defend yourself when you are not in costume is important."

  "What, are you a personal trainer now in addition to being an alien AI?" I said jokingly. "Because you sound just like the guy who trained Thomas for a while there."

  "Thomas?" TW repeated. "Who is Thomas?"

  I tilted my head to the side. "You mean you don't know who Thomas is? He's my oldest brother. Or was, I should say, before he died."

  "Ah, now I remember," said TW, nodding. "Gregory told me that he had two grandsons, though he didn't tell me what happened to Thomas."

  I looked away, trying not to show any emotion. "He injected himself with an illegal dosage of Power. It was too much for his body to handle and he ... he died."

  "Oh," said TW. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is that common?"

  "Sort of," I said with a shrug. "Lots of people just want to become superheroes, but either can't or don't want to pass the Superhero Exam. So they go to the Injectors to get Power, but it ra
rely works out."

  "Is that what Thomas wanted?" said TW. "To be a superhero, but without first passing the Superhero Exam?"

  I folded my arms in front of my chest. "All I know is that he was desperate. He'd been fired from his job, broke up with his girlfriend, and had other problems, too. I think he turned to Power because he thought it would solve his problems."

  "Why didn't you or your parents offer to help him?" said TW. "Surely he could have stayed with your family while he was trying to get back on his feet?"

  "We did offer to help him," I said. "But Thomas didn't want our help. He and Dad ... they had a falling out when he graduated from college."

  "May I ask what they fought about?" said TW. "Or is that private?"

  "No, I can tell you," I said. "You see, Thomas wanted to become a superhero, but Dad was against it, because he didn't want Thomas to go through the same things Grandfather did. He wanted Thomas to go into construction like him, not try to follow in Grandfather's footsteps."

  "Why didn't your father want him to follow in Gregory's footsteps?" said TW. "I was under the impression that most people are proud to be the children of superheroes."

  "I'm not entirely sure," I said. "I think Dad just didn't like growing up with a superhero dad, because Grandfather wasn't always around or something. All I know is that the two had a big fight, which I think was probably one of the reasons Thomas took Power."

  "So you think your father would not be very happy if he learned that you are the new Trickshot?"

  "Probably." I shrugged again. "But it's too late now. I'm going to use this costume and these new powers to take down the Injectors. If I can do that, then we'll finally have some closure over Thomas."

  "Yes, I remember you telling Michael Jones that you were declaring war on the Injectors," said TW. "I didn't know you meant it literally, however."

  I looked at TW. "Why wouldn't I mean it? The Injectors are evil. If they hadn't been around, Thomas would still be alive. So would a lot of other people, actually, because their drugs have ruined the lives of countless families. The police haven't been able to stop them and neither has Bug Bite, so it's up to me to do it."