by Lucas Flint
"Dad, relax," I said as we turned down a side street that would take us to Rumsfeld High. "The Injectors aren't going to come after me. They're probably more interested in taking down Trickshot rather than me."
"You can never be too safe, especially when dealing with the Injectors," said Dad, wagging a finger at me. "And after that Christina woman kidnapped you, the last thing I want is for you to be in danger again because I wasn't there to protect you."
I sank back into my seat, but said nothing, because I knew Dad wouldn't listen to anything I said. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if Dad was really worried about me because of Thomas. It must have been scary for him to think of losing two sons to the same gang. I wish I could have told him that he wouldn't need to worry about me anymore soon, but I couldn't do that just yet.
"What do you think about that guy wearing Grandfather's old costume?" I said, looking at Dad again. "The new Trickshot?"
Dad scowled. "I'm not sure what to think of him. On one hand, he did save your life from the Injectors, but on the other hand, I don't like the fact that he's somehow gotten Papa's old costume and is wearing it. He must know where Papa is, which is why I want the police to arrest him so they can interrogate him and find out where Papa is."
"I'd like to know where Grandfather is, too," I said. "But I don't think Trickshot is a bad guy or has anything to do with Grandfather's disappearance."
"I didn't say that." Dad sighed. "I just don't really know what to make of him. For ten years, Papa has been missing, along with his costume and watch, only for a guy I don't know wearing his suit to appear out of nowhere and start taking names. Half the time I suspect it's an Injector plot, but the other half ... well, I don't know what's going."
I nodded. "If it helps, the Injectors don't seem to like him, which is a pretty good sign that he's not on their side, at least."
"Yeah, but it doesn't mean he's on our side, either," said Dad. He glanced at me briefly. "Jack, I want you to keep your distance from this guy, okay? Until we know if we can trust him or not, I want you to avoid seeing him too often."
I smiled. "What, do you think Trickshot and I are best friends because he happened to save my life once?"
"Not exactly," said Dad. "I just think that it's best to avoid those kinds of people. The last thing I want is for you to get involved in the superhero lifestyle, especially at such a young age."
"What makes you think I want to be a superhero in the first place?" I said curiously.
Dad shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just saying that young guys like you always have dreams of becoming superheroes and fighting crime and stuff like that. Trust me, as the son of an actual superhero, it's not nearly as glamorous as the movies or comic books make it out to be."
I had always known that Dad didn't care much for superheroes, but I had never really known why until now. "Care to elaborate?"
Dad stopped at a stop light, allowing a large truck to pass in front of us. "Papa was never really there for me. He was always too busy being a superhero to really be a father to me or my brothers. I didn't understand why growing up, but even now that I do understand better, I still wish he had carved out more time to be a father to us."
"I'm not a father yet, though."
Dad looked at me like I was an idiot. "You think I don't know that? But someday, you will be a father, and I want you to be able to live a normal life without putting your life at risk fighting drug dealers and supervillains like Papa did. He could have died at any moment, leaving me, my brothers, and my mom with nothing."
"But he was defending the city," I said. "He was making it safer for everyone, wasn't he?"
"True," said Dad as the stop light turned green and we resumed heading toward the school, "but what's the point in making your city safe for your family if you never actually do anything with them? I would rather he have been a construction worker like me or, hell, even an accountant than going out and fighting crime all the time."
"Dad--"
"And that's not even getting into what happened to Thomas," Dad continued. "Kid wanted to be a super so badly that he ... well, you know what he did. I've lost two family members to the super lifestyle and I don't want to lose another."
Dad spoke really passionately when he said that, which surprised me, because Dad usually wasn't very passionate about, well, anything. He didn't look at me because he was too busy keeping his eyes on the road, but I could tell that if he didn't have to keep his eyes on the road, he would have been looking directly at me as he said every word.
"So promise me, Jack," said Dad, glancing at me. "Promise me that you won't become a superhero. Can you promise me that?"
I hesitated. Technically speaking, I had already been a superhero for almost a week now. Not a licensed hero, true, but a superhero nonetheless. There was no way I could make or keep that promise to Dad, especially knowing that Grandfather wanted me to follow in his footsteps.
But I couldn't just sneak out of this conversation or change the subject. Dad would notice and he would probably drag the conversation back to the promise if I tried that.
Trying my best not to look guilty, I looked Dad in the eyes and said, "Sure, Dad. You don't have to worry about me."
Dad visibly relaxed. "Thanks, Jack. I figured you would say that, but I appreciate hearing you say it just the same."
Dad patted me on the shoulder. I smiled as best as I could, but deep down I couldn't help but feel a little ashamed of myself for lying to his face like that.
But I would make up for it when I defeated the Injectors. Then I would tell Mom and Dad and they would understand. At least, I hoped they would, anyway.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After school was out for the day, I went home, dropped off my homework and school supplies, and went directly to the warehouse where TW and I would do our training for the day. I managed to do this because Dad was still at work when I got off school and wouldn't be home for a few more hours at least, while Mom had left a note on the kitchen table informing me that she was also out running errands around town, which would also take her a while based on the number of errands she needed to complete. Thus, I didn't think either of my parents would notice if I was missing for a couple of hours. I would just have to make sure to be back home before either of them returned, otherwise I would risk panicking them again and causing them to start another citywide search for me.
When I arrived at Warehouse 19 and went inside, I looked down at the Trickshot Watch and said, "Hey, TW, I'm ready for more training. Are you there?"
At first, I thought that TW was just going to keep ignoring me, but then he reappeared next to me suddenly. I immediately noticed that the fuzziness around the edges of his form were more pronounced than before, though he didn't seem to notice them himself. He just floated there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking at me with a scowl on his face.
"I thought you said you didn't need to train," said TW. "Did you change your mind?"
I shrugged. "I'm not sure what to do next. Don't know how to locate Michael Jones, so I decided to train today, rather than sit around and worry about figuring out my next move."
"What about your homework from school?" said TW. "Are you going to do that?"
I waved off TW's question. "Eh, it's not that hard. I'll just do it before I go to bed. Right now, I want to train with my powers. And why would you care, anyway? You were the one insisting on training me, but now you're wondering why I'm not doing my homework?'
"I was just under the impression that you thought you knew everything there was to know about your powers," said TW, "so you didn't feel the need to train with them."
"Well, I guess I don't," I said. "So can we just move onto our next lesson now? I'm getting bored."
TW looked like he was going to say no at first, but then he slowly nodded and said, "All right. We'll begin our n-next lesson."
TW's voice stuttered slightly when he said that, prompting me to say, "Are you okay?"
"Yes," said TW, looki
ng at me curiously. "Why do you ask?"
"You're kind of fuzzy around the edges and you just stuttered," I said. "You told me before that you're decaying."
TW looked down at his body and grimaced. "Yes, I can see what you mean. But I would not worry about it. I still have a lot of time left before my AI decays to the point of no return. Until then, you and I should focus on training you to the best of your abilities and nothing else."
"All right," I said, though secretly I wondered if TW was just changing the subject because his own 'death' was uncomfortable to talk about. "What's our lesson for today?"
"We'll practice your aiming ability," said TW, "the power that earned Gregory the name Trickshot."
"You mean the one I used on those Injectors back on my birthday?" I said. I mimicked throwing a rock. "When I threw that roof tile that bounced off everywhere and hit all of those guys in the head."
"Precisely," said TW, nodding. "Back then, you only managed to use it because of my help, but this time you will do it under your own power."
"So how does the power work, exactly?" I said. "I know you said it is perfect aim, but does that really mean it never misses?"
"More or less," said TW. "Assuming your target doesn't have a shield or take cover behind something, the object you throw at him will hit him in exactly the spot you want to hit him. The way it works is that the object you throw locks onto the target and will take whatever path necessary to get the target."
"That's really cool," I said. "Do I have to actually throw the object to make the power work or does it work with a gun, too?"
"It works with guns and other projectile weapons as well," said TW, "but it is less effective because you are transferring your energy through the weapon rather than directly into the object itself."
"All right," I said. I looked around the warehouse. "What should I start with first? I need something to throw."
"You already have something to throw," said TW. "Look at your belt."
I looked down at the belt of my costume, but did not see anything. "What about my belt? It--"
I stopped speaking as soon as I saw a blue light glowing on my belt. Before my startled eyes, the blue light slowly turned into a small pouch on my belt, the same colors as the rest of my costume.
I looked up at TW. "Where did that come from?"
"The Watch, obviously," said TW. "Did I forget to tell you that the Watch can remove or add parts of your costume at will?"
"Yeah, you did," I said. I tapped the pouch on my belt, feeling its soft surface. I flipped open the lid and pulled out a small, shiny metal disk. "What's this?"
"A throwing disk," said TW. "Gregory created them when he first got the suit. He created them in order to make sure he would always have small objects on hand to throw. They are specially designed to work with your aiming powers, unlike most objects."
"So all I need to do is throw them and they'll bounce around crazily like that roof tile?" I said, flipping the disk over in my hand to get a better look at it.
"It's not quite that simple," said TW. "But with some practice, yes, they'll not only bounce around, but will also hit your target dead on."
"What if I run out?" I said. I patted the pouch. "Doesn't feel like there's a whole lot in there. Maybe a dozen at most."
"The suit can make more on demand by drawing upon the suit's energy itself," said TW. "But only enough to fill the pouch, so I wouldn't worry about it right now. Let's start your next lesson."
TW pointed at a thin chain hanging from the ceiling on the other side of the warehouse. "See that chain? That will be your target for today."
I looked over at the chain. It was very far away from where I stood, to the point where I wasn't sure I would be able to hit it even if I used my super strength to give my throw an extra boost. But I obviously would not need to worry about the distance, because my aiming powers would make it easy to hit it.
I raised the disk. "Okay, I'm ready. What do I do next?"
TW pointed at the chain. "First, lock your gaze on the chain. You must have complete and total focus on your target. If you let your focus slip for even a second, then your powers won't work. While this will require careful, deliberate practice at first, in the long run it will become second nature and you will be able to do it without thinking."
I nodded and focused hard on the chain. It was difficult at first, because the chain was really boring and I found myself constantly distracted by thoughts about Mom and Dad getting home before me and finding me missing again. Still, I eventually managed to focus on the chain itself.
"Focused?" said TW.
I nodded again, though without looking at him. "Yeah."
"Now pull your arm back and throw," said TW. "Do it in one smooth motion."
I pulled my arm back and threw the silver disk at the chain. As the disk left my hands, I felt some kind of power within me flow into the disk and the disk launched straight through the air toward the chain much faster than I intended. The disk sliced straight through the chain, causing the chain to fall straight to the floor below.
"Wow," I said. I looked at TW eagerly. "That was easier than I thought! And on my first try, too."
"Yes, you did a good job," said TW, nodding. "But it will take more than that to master this power. After all, the power of Trickshot lies not in his accuracy, but also in his ability to manipulate the trajectory of his objects."
TW gestured at another chain hanging from the catwalk above us. "See that? I want you to throw another disk, but not directly at it. Throw the disk against the wall."
I pulled another disk out of my pouch and looked at the walls on either side. I decided to aim at the right wall, so I turned so my back would face TW and I threw the disk at the wall.
But the disk just bounced off the wall once and fell onto the floor uselessly without hitting anything.
"What the heck?" I said. "Why didn't it bounce off the wall and hit the chain like that roof tile did?"
"Controlling the trajectory of your disk is a lot more complicated than just throwing it directly at your target," said TW. "As with aiming, you must focus intently on the path you wish the disk to take. You must visualize it bouncing off the wall toward your intended target. Otherwise, it will treat the wall itself as the target, which it obviously isn't."
"I see," I said, nodding. "But does that mean I have to visualize every area I want it to bounce off of?"
"If you want it to take a longer path to reach the chain, then yes, you will," said TW. "Again, I wouldn't get too worried about it. With time and practice, you will be able to do it with ease. It will become second nature."
I wasn't so sure about that. Aiming and throwing a disk was easy, but controlling the trajectory of that same disk, having it bounce off multiple targets before it hit the actual intended target, seemed far more complicated than just throwing a disk. But I decided to take TW's advice.
Drawing my third disk out of my pouch, I aimed at the wall once again. This time, I imagined my disk bouncing off the wall and hitting the chain dead on, just like my first disk. It was surprisingly easy to do, so once I felt comfortable with the mental image, I pulled back my arm and threw the disk.
Like before, part of my energy went into the disk as it left my fingers and it flew through the air straight and true. It bounced off the wall, but rather than hitting the floor, it flew up directly toward the chain itself.
"Aw, yeah!" I said, pumping my fist. "It's working!"
But then the disk suddenly wobbled and veered to the left in midair, completely missing the chain by several feet. I watched in disappointment as it landed on the floor, its clanking lamely against the concrete surface.
"Why did it fail?" I said, looking at TW. "I did everything right."
TW raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn't. You lost your focus as soon as success seemed to be within your grasp."
I opened my mouth to argue, but then paused and realized TW was correct. "It's not my fault. I just got excited when I saw it happe
ning."
"Well, it doesn't matter whether it is your 'fault' or not," said TW. "What matters is that you lost focus, which caused the disk to lose focus as well. You need to keep your focus on the disk until it hits its target. Otherwise, it will veer off course and end up not hitting anything at all."
I didn't like TW's holier than thou tone, but I couldn't argue with his assessment. I pulled another disk out of my pouch and said, "Then I'll just try again. The suit can make unlimited disks, right? So it's not like I'm in danger of running out or anything."
"Practice makes perfect," said TW, nodding again. "Now that you know what to do, try again. And don't lose your focus. Keep the focus on the disk and its target at all times, or at least until it hits the chain."
"Sure," I said.
But I didn't get a chance to try again, because just as I raised the disk, the wall exploded.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The explosion sent me flying backwards. I landed hard on the floor and rolled to a stop in front of an empty metal container, my senses briefly dazed before I shook my head and looked over at the wall that had once stood there. Now there was just a big hole in the side of the warehouse, covered in smoke and flames from the explosion, making it impossible to see who had done it.
"What the hell?" I said, pushing myself up and shaking my head. "What's up with the explosion? TW, can you see who did it?"
"Sorry, Jack," said TW in my head; I realized that he was not floating nearby in his hologram form. "The smoke is as hard for me to see through as it is for you. I have no idea who could possibly have set off that bomb, though I imagine we'll soon find out."
Over the roar of the flames, I heard footsteps coming from the smoke cloud, multiple sets of footsteps, like there were a lot of people rushing toward us.
All of a sudden, half a dozen Injectors burst through the smoke cloud, each one armed with a high-powered rifle that they aimed at me.
"There he is!" said one of the Injectors, pointing at me. "Shoot 'em!"
