by Lucas Flint
"Excellent," said Christina. She held out a hand. "Now, I'd like to take the Watch off your hands. I need to get back to headquarters soon, because my boss is starting to get impatient and worried about the Watch being out in the wider world for so long."
Michael handed the Watch to Christina without hesitation. Christina took it and held the Watch in her hands, looking at it as if she had finally achieved her wildest dreams. Anger filled me when I saw Christina touch the Watch, because I knew, deep in my heart, that the Watch wasn't hers and that it rightfully belonged to me, but I still didn't move, because if I did now, then Michael and Christina would just kill me.
"With the successful acquisition of the Watch, will you please ask Chaser to increase our funding? We've conquered nearly all of Rumsfeld and much of High Hills County. In order to expand our operations to the rest of the State, we'll need more money than we currently have. At least a ten percent increase in our budget, though fifteen or twenty would be even better."
"Certainly," said Christina, flashing Michael a winning smile. "Once Chaser is holding the Watch in his hands, I'm sure he will be happy to give you as much money as you want. Your work here in Texas is crucial to the success of our own plans, after all."
I tilted my head to the side. How did Icon benefit from the distribution of the Power drug? I didn't see how that was supposed to work, but I put that question out of my mind for now, because right now I needed to focus on getting back the Watch.
For that matter, who was Chaser? The leader of Icon? It sure sounded like it, though I'd never heard the guy's name before. If was Christina's boss, then he was probably even worse than her.
"Good to hear," said Michael. "Whatever you give me, I will make it back ten times over in Power revenue. There are still lots of people who are willing to pay a pretty penny to become super, especially rich people who are too lazy to complete the Superhero Exam themselves."
"Excellent," said Christina. "Anyway, I think I should be--"
Christina was interrupted by Michael's cell phone ringing. Michael pulled his phone out of his pocket and, answering it, said, "What is it?"
I couldn't hear what the voice on the other end of the line said, but I did see Michael's expression, which grew increasingly grimmer and grimmer the longer he listened to the voice.
"I see," said Michael. "Have the others search the area around the building. Order all Injectors to shoot to kill. We cannot afford to let that kid survive."
"That kid?" Christina said as Michael hung up the call and put his phone back into his pocket. "You aren't talking about Jack, are you?"
"Who else?" said Michael. "I thought this might happen. The men I sent up to the roof just called me to inform me that they cannot see the kid's body anywhere on the pavement below, and the guards I have stationed around the building have reported not finding his body, either."
"Meaning he's survived?" said Christina in amazement. "But how? He doesn't have his powers anymore. There's no way he should have been able to survive that fall."
"I don't know or care," said Michael. "Whether the kid was saved by someone or somehow managed to survive the fall and drag himself to safety, it's clear that I can no longer rely on my men to do the job. I must take things into my own hands."
Michael walked over to the book shelves and pulled out a particularly old-looking red book from the top shelf. Immediately, the shelf to his right slid aside, revealing a short hallway that I could not see down.
"Wait, where are you going?" said Christina, rising from her chair.
Michael looked over his shoulder at her. "To prepare for war, of course."
Michael turned and walked into the hallway. As soon as he did, the bookshelves slid closed behind him, leaving Christina standing by herself somewhat awkwardly by the main desk.
I was a little annoyed that Michael had apparently disappeared, but hey, at least he didn't take the Watch with him. I quietly moved over to the next desk, avoiding Christina, who was still looking at the bookshelves which Michael had disappeared behind a few seconds ago.
"This is not good," said Christina, apparently talking to herself. "If that kid is still alive, then he might be able to tell the police where we are, and our entire plan will fall apart. Screw Michael. He can hunt the brat if he wants. I got the Watch. I'm going to get out of here before everything goes to hell."
Christina walked around the desk and toward the door as quickly as she could. When she passed my desk, I stuck out my leg and she tripped over it, sending the Trickshot Watch flying out of her hands as she fell to the floor with a shout.
I didn't even waste a moment. I darted out from the desk and jumped, catching the Trickshot Watch before it hit the floor. I landed on the carpeted floor on my belly, but I didn't care, because I had the Watch firmly in my grasp now. I couldn't help but smile, feeling the smooth surface of the Watch's face with my thumbs.
"Sorry it took so long, TW," I muttered, "but we're finally back together again."
But then I felt something wrap around my legs and looked down to see an energy rope tied around my legs. Holding the other end of the rope was Christina. Her hair was messed up and her clothing was a bit wrinkled from the fall, but it was her eyes--full of insanity and triumph--which made me freeze where I lay.
"Dumb brat," said Christina. "You had the perfect chance to go and tell the police about us, but you waste it trying to steal the Watch back. You really are just another dumb kid, aren't you?"
I didn't respond to that. I just slapped the Watch on my wrist and, flipping the face, slammed the button down as hard as I could.
In seconds, the Trickshot costume appeared over my body once again and I felt strength flow through me.
"Ha!" I cried out. "Looks like I made the smart choice after all! Get ready to--"
Christina grunted and the energy rope began crawling upon my body. I raised my arms, but it was no good, because the rope went up to my chest and, without warning, suddenly started constricting like a snake. The air was forced out of my lungs and I couldn't breathe.
"All this effort to get back the Watch, but you only accomplished dying like a clown," said Christina, shaking her head. "Lucky for us that you're such an idiot. Otherwise, I would actually be worried that you might beat us."
I would have told Christina to shut the hell up, but unfortunately that required air to breathe, which I didn't have at the moment.
But I wasn't nearly as helpless as Christina thought. I reached down and pulled out one of the metal disks from the pouch attached to my belt. I aimed and threw the disk at her face, but Christina ducked, dodging it very easily.
"How pathetic," said Christina, standing up again. "You threw a dumb disk at me and you didn't even hit me. What's up with that? I thought that the legendary Trickshot never misses."
I would have made some clever quip just then about how I never miss, but again, that required air. All I could do was smirk as I saw my disk bounce off the window behind her and then off the ceiling directly at the back of her head.
She didn't even see it coming. The disk struck Christina directly in the back of her head. She immediately collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, while her energy rope immediately dissipated around my body, allowing me to breathe once again. I scrambled to my feet and looked down at her, but it was pretty obvious that she was not going to be getting up again anytime soon.
Still breathing hard, I walked over to Mom and Dad to make sure they were okay. Kneeling in front of them, I shook them both, saying, "Hey, can you two hear me? Wake up. Please."
Thankfully, their eyes flickered open. At first, they had dazed looks, as if they didn't know where they were, but soon understanding dawned in their eyes and they looked around the office in confusion.
"Huh?" said Dad. "Where are we? What happened?" He looked at me with a confused look. "And who are you?"
"I'm Trickshot," I said. "As for where you are, you were in danger, but now you're safe. I just need to untie both of you and we can al
l get out of here safely."
"I remember someone knocking at the door," said Mom in a slightly dazed voice. "When I opened the door, something hard hit my head and I fell unconscious."
"It was probably the Injectors," I said. "But there's no time to explain. Come on. I'll undo your ropes and get you guys out of here."
Just as I reached for the ropes holding Mom and Dad down, Dad's eyes widened and he said, "Watch out!"
Before I could look over my shoulder, I felt something sharp stab into my back. Crying out suddenly, I threw my arms behind me, but whoever had stabbed me jumped out of my reach. I turned around to see who had stabbed me and dread fell over me when I saw who now stood a few feet away from me:
It was Lethal Injection. And he was holding up one of his stingers, slightly stained with my blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
As soon as I looked at Lethal Injection, I suddenly gasped. My veins started to burn and my whole body felt like it was on fire. I staggered, almost falling to my hands and knees, but instead I leaned on one of the nearby desks for support, panting hard as the venom worked its way through my body. It would still be a while before it actually killed me, but I could tell it was a fast-acting poison, which meant I didn't have much longer if I wanted to live.
Lethal Injection, as usual, said nothing. He just looked at me from behind his helmet, his expression hidden away by his helmet's visor.
"Damn it," I said, my voice tinged with raggedness. "I should have seen that ... should have seen that coming."
I expected Lethal Injection to be as silent as usual, but instead, he chuckled, a sound that seemed oddly familiar for some reason.
"What's so funny?" I said. "I'm dying here and you think this is amusing?"
Lethal Injection shook his head. He tapped the side of his helmet and the visor flipped up suddenly, revealing a familiar face I had not expected to see behind that helmet.
I gaped. "Michael Jones? You're Lethal Injection?"
Lethal Injection--no, Michael Jones--nodded, a smirk on his face. "Correct, kid. Since you're going to be dying anyway, I thought it wouldn't hurt to show you my real identity."
"But ..." I coughed once or twice, not serious coughs, but enough to make me worried for my own health. "I didn't know you and Lethal Injection were one and the same."
"Very few do," said Michael. "It is beneficial for my purposes if most people believe that Lethal Injection and Michael Jones are two different individuals. That way, my enemies waste time trying to shoot two targets when they should really be aiming for one. Besides, assassination is how I got my start in organized crime, and the Lethal Injection identity lets me indulge in it every now and then whenever I get bored running the day-to-day operations of the Injectors."
"You ... you monster," I said. I let go of the desk and tried to take a step closer, but the world spun around me and I was forced to grab the desk again to avoid falling over. "You don't just hire an assassin to kill people. You are the assassin."
"Brilliant deduction," said Michael sarcastically. "Tell me, what other brilliant insights will you have? Perhaps next you will realize that I am the leader of the Injectors and that I'm very good at selling Power to those who have the money to spend on it."
Breathing was becoming harder for me now, but I said, "I don't have any more insights to share with you. I'm going to take you down once and for all, regardless of what getup you're wearing."
I flew toward Michael, hoping to get in at least one good punch before the poison killed me. Just one punch was all it would take to take him down.
But Michael spun around and slammed his suit's scorpion tail into my face. The surprisingly strong blow sent me flying into and through his desk. I slammed against the windows on the other side of the room, causing them to crack upon impact, but they didn't break. Still, the impact of slamming my skull against the solid glass windows made my head spin even more than it already did, which, in addition to the poison in my body, made it almost impossible for me to focus long enough to do anything other than lie helplessly on the floor like a baby.
Michael appeared over me. He knelt beside me, resting his arms on his knees, looking at me with the most amused smirk I had ever seen on another human being's face.
"I will admit, kid, that you did well," said Michael. "Putting twenty of my men behind bars and sneaking directly into my office without me knowing? You even gave me a good fight back in the factory a few days ago, even though it was fairly inconclusive. But in the end, I can't let you live, and I think you know why."
I spat in his face. "Monster."
Michael wiped the spit off his face, but he didn't get angry. "Is that all you have to say? I thought you would pick your final words more carefully. It's a shame, because when I was growing up, I deeply admired the original Trickshot. I even dreamed of becoming a superhero myself someday, but alas, fate had a different plan for me, taking me down a road that has led me to clash rather than work with supers more often than not. Perhaps in another life, you and I would be superheroes working together to keep Rumsfeld safe, but in this life, we're mortal enemies, and only one of us can survive."
I would have said something back to his face, but it was becoming harder and harder to breathe with each passing second. My eyes started to water and all of the strength had been sapped from my limbs, making me feel as weak as I did without the costume. Darkness was tugging at the edges of my vision, and soon the poison would reach my heart or my brain or maybe both and I would be dead.
My costume, I knew, could remove the poison, if given enough time to do so, but I was afraid that I didn't have time for the costume to force the poison out of my body. Even if it did, there was nothing stopping Michael from shooting me in the face with the acid from his tail, acid that would kill me just as easily as, if not more painfully than, the poison currently coursing through my veins.
Michael stood up and dusted himself off. "Look at this. I went to all of the trouble to put on my Lethal Injection costume, only to kill you in a matter of minutes. It's somewhat of a hassle to get into and out of, but I can't complain. If I hadn't put on the costume, I would likely be at your mercy, instead of you being at my mercy."
I couldn't say anything. I could barely even move. I just glared at Michael with as much anger as I could muster, which was about the only way I could let him know that I wasn't afraid of him and that I was going to remain defiant to the end. To my frustration, Michael just chuckled.
"Keep glaring, kid," said Michael. "It's an ugly expression to die with on your face, but I suppose we're all allowed to decide how we want to look when we die. Even if it is ugly."
Shaking his head, Michael turned and started walking away, but before he could get very far, Dad suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tackled him to the floor with a yell.
"Gotcha, you bastard!" Dad said, pinning Michael to the floor with his bulk. "You're the one who sold my son those drugs that killed him! No way am I ever going to forget that!"
Michael just grunted in annoyance underneath Dad. His tail whipped Dad across the face quickly, knocking Dad off of him. Michael rose to his feet and kicked Dad in the gut, knocking Dad flat off his feet and onto the floor, where he lay with a stunned look on his face.
"Dad ..." I said in a low whisper that I doubted anyone other than myself heard. "No ..."
Surprisingly, Dad got to his feet, but Michael punched him in the face, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and then slammed his face against the desk. Then Michael threw Dad onto the floor and kicked him again, this time far more viciously than before, enough to make Dad wheeze in pain.
"Walter!" Mom screamed from the other side of the office. "Walter, no!"
Of course, Michael paid no attention to Mom's screams. He just kept kicking Dad while he was down, each blow more vicious than the last. I felt like he was really angry at Dad for some reason, but it didn't matter, because, while Dad was a strong guy, Michael was clearly the better fighter of the two. If I didn't inte
rvene quickly, Dad would definitely die.
"I need to get up," I muttered to TW. "I need to get up and save Dad. I need to get up and save Dad now."
"Sorry, Jack, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to help you," said TW in my head. "The suit can get rid of the poison, but it will likely take hours before it does."
"I don't have hours," I muttered angrily. "I barely have minutes."
"I know, but there's still nothing I can do about it," said TW. "I'm sorry, I truly am. I wish I could save your father, but I am just as powerless to save him as you are. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," I muttered. "I'll think of ... think of something ..."
The darkness around the edges of my eyes was growing thicker. It was harder to think. I was barely even aware of Michael beating Dad to death. Bit by bit, my life was slipping through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing, that is, except ask for help.
Costume, I said in my mind. Costume, can you hear me? I know you're busy working on trying to get rid of the poison in my body, but I need your help. I can't move myself at the moment. I need your help to save Dad. Please, help me.
Of course, there was no response, as usual. I didn't talk to my costume much, so I supposed the lack of a response was to be expected, but I still needed to talk to it and convince it to help me.
Dad needs your help, I said. And he's not just my dad. He's the son of your original owner, Gregory. If you don't help me get on my feet and take down Michael, then you'll be letting down Gregory. You'll be letting down me.
Nothing. No response. Nothing to indicate that my suit heard me or that it was even paying attention to anything I said. Maybe it still didn't respect me enough to listen to anything I had to say or maybe it was too focused on getting the poison out of my system to pay attention. Regardless, it was clear that this last ditch effort of mine had failed. And that meant that my quest to avenge Thomas had failed as well.
But then I felt strength flood my limbs. My vision cleared and my entire body felt as energetic as it always did. Deep down, I knew this came from the costume, which was granting me its strength in order for me to do what I needed to do.
